The Strength Within
by a. loquita
Summary: SJ Are military regs the only thing standing between Sam and Jack?
1. Storm's abrewing

Title: The Strength Within

Category: angst, romance, humor

Pairings: S/J

Summary: When characters are being stubborn, try putting them in mortal danger. Hopefully it will knock some sense into them.

Spoilers: Anything before the episode "Ex Deus Machina" is fair game

Disclaimer: Pure fun. Not written for fame or fortune so please don't sue.

Part 1: Storm's a-brewing

Sam checked her watch. The misty rain had been falling for almost 3 hours now. While Daniel and Teal'c where examining the obelisks and SG-4 was back at the gate keeping watch, she was traipsing through another off-world forest alongside her commanding officer. It was like hundreds she'd seen before.

Sam was miserable and it wasn't just the rain. They hadn't really been alone, just the two of them in a while. Well, there was always the distinct possibility that someone or something could jump out at them from the trees any moment. But until that happened, Sam was alone with Colonel O'Neill. And while typically it was a rare treat, the problem now was being alone with Colonel O'Neill in his current mood. He hadn't said more than three words to her since they started their trek checking the perimeter and searching for signs of life, or of trouble.

Sam was soaked, tired, and his glum silence wasn't helping the situation. Rain-soaked clothes and a gloomy O'Neill added together, equalled one very miserable Carter.

Finally out of the blue he spoke. "So, date tomorrow, huh?"

"What?" Sam was truly caught off-guard. She wondered if he had hit his head somewhere along the way and she hadn't noticed.

"Lancaster. Daniel said-"

"Oh, that," Sam replied quickly, "No."

Since both her and O'Neill were turned away from each other, surveying the brush on each side, Sam added a roll of her eyes. So this was what his grumpy mood was about.

Earlier that morning, O'Neill had walked in her lab just in time to observe Master Sergeant Lancaster bringing Sam a cup of coffee. By the time they were preparing to go off-world, Daniel was full-out teasing Sam about it, as usual. O'Neill overheard parts of Daniel's innuendos. Lancaster's little crush on Sam was well known on the base, but these kinds of things typically took longer to get to Jack O'Neill's ears.

"You know what they say, Carter." Jack waited a beat. "Birds do it, bees do it, even over-educated PhD's do it."

This time, she abandoned the survey of the trees and met his eyes, giving him a wry look.

"Sir, he's barely 20." Sam felt the need to point out. Just for starters.

O'Neill picked up the pace again, re-focusing on the task at hand. But he added lightly, "Maybe he's only lookin' for you to buy him beer."

Sam snored a little laugh. She fell in step with him again, glad that his mood seemed to lift a little. If only the rain would do the same.

"Sir, even if he is looking for more than beer, I'm not interested."

"No?" O'Neill's voice was guarded. "He seems to me exactly the type you'd go for. Young, smart, eager, and big beefy muscles."

Sam didn't want to dignify that with an answer. Either he was egging her on, or he was fishing, and Sam knew how much he liked the latter. But even if she wanted to answer, she never got the chance because their radios came alive.

"Jack." It was Daniel, sounding very excited. "These obelisks are amazing. Some of the etchings tell the history of this place. The first inhabitants and a second group, a newer culture of people that was brought to this place through the Circle of Pe'ty, had to learn to co-exist peacefully. Despite the fact that the new inhabitants had some kind of technology, I'm guessing weapons of some sort. I haven't determined yet how advanced they were."

"Yeah, OK, Daniel. Get to your point."

"We have to stay and study this."

"Fine," Jack groaned. "24 hours, that's all we're allowed."

"I'll need a few days." Daniel started to argue with almost a whine to his voice, "at least."

"Well then I suggest you shut up and get as much done as you can. O'Neill out."

Jack turned and motioned for Carter to follow. It seemed they had better establish camp for the night.

If Jack thought Sam looked miserable before, now that they were staying on this wet planet for the full extent of the mission, she seemed to sink further into herself. She hated being wet. Muddy, dirty, bleeding, those Sam Carter didn't bat an eyelash at. But being wet turned her usually sunny disposition to downright dismal. Plus, to bring in all the extra equipment on this mission, they'd opted to leave out the tents as they often did.

O'Neill silently cursed Daniel for finding something. He hated having to do this to all of them. It would be so much better to just get home and get dry. Sitting in front of the fireplace, curled in a blanket, she would be all warm and soft snuggled up against…. Whoa.

Time to turn those thoughts around, Jack ordered himself. Glancing a side-ways look at Carter, he tried to determine if she was smart enough to read his mind. If she were, she'd probably have hit him by now.

O'Neil sighed. He'd gotten pretty good at not allowing the thoughts and fantasies to interfere when they were in the field over the years. It was mostly just when he was alone, especially at night. Lancaster wasn't the only one with a crush. But he was the lucky SOB that was allowed to actually do something about it.

Daniel found abandoned buildings not far from the stone obelisks. The dwellings had shoji screened rooms. Jack took pity on all of them having been in the rain for hours. He ordered the SGC team members to take advantage of having shelter for the night, out of the weather.

It was the middle of the night, the storm and wind had picked up. Sam could hear heavy rain on the roof. But even though the shelter was a blessing in one way, she was also cursing it. If only there had been regular walls, she wouldn't be in her current predicament. The screen's design being thin, frail, and opaque meant the rooms were hardly private and she could see the shadow of O'Neill on the other side.

Sam had awoken several minutes before due to sounds. O'Neill seemed to be disturbed, and she became worried. She stood weapon ready, about to draw back the screen and attack whatever creature was on the other side. But just then, Jack rolled onto his back.

The shadows on the screen made it perfectly clear what he was doing, his hand moved up and down rhythmically at his pelvis. Sam gasped and froze.

Jack moaned and whispered, "Carter."

Her heart began to pound with realization, he was thinking of her while he was… doing that.

Sam scrunched her eyes closed, trying to block the image. But just as O'Neill seemed to be reaching a crescendo, he grunted, "Sam," loudly. Sam's eyes flew open.

Daniel, Teal'c, and a member of SG-4 were at the screens to Sam's room within seconds.

Sam knew she was the only thing standing between O'Neill and mortification. It was bad enough that she knew, but at least others didn't have to know. Sam stopped Daniel as he started to slide her screen open. They would have to go through her room to get to the Colonel's room, and she decided to do anything to stop them.

"He's fine, Daniel, just a nightmare."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Daniel also seemed a little skeptical.

"You're sure?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah," Sam whispered, "he was mumbling in his sleep something about Charlie. I'll check on him. You guys go back to sleep, we've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Daniel agreed, "Yeah, OK."

Sam closed the screen, crossed the room, and slowly slid the next screen open. It revealed O'Neill sound asleep on his back, fly open.

Sam considered closing the screen and going back to sleep, but she was worried that others wouldn't heed her advice, that they would come back anyway and check on the Colonel.

Sam crossed to his side, knelt down and whispered into his ear, "Sir, you um, might want to-"

O'Neill turned in his sleep and rolled Sam underneath him.

"Carter," he said groggily while nuzzling her neck. "Forgive me, I have to have you again." His tone was very different from any other she'd ever head him use: soft, sincere, warm, and very sleepy.

Sam desperately fought her body's natural reaction to his words and the hot, hungry kisses along her neck. If circumstances were any different…

"Colonel."

But he didn't seem to hear her.

"Jack, you have to wake up. Sir!"

Suddenly his eyes flew open and he looked at her. It was one of those juxtaposition moments they often had. Only centimeters separated them but when their eyes met, it seemed like the Grand Canyon was between them.

It all dawned on him. "Oh, God." He backed away from her like she was a Goa'uld.

Jack saw the sticky mess all over the front of himself and knew that the dream he was having wasn't only a dream. He had fallen asleep thinking about Carter in the next room, a tiny screen between them, and it had obviously played with his mind.

She was wearing clothes, so at least that part must have been a dream. But the rest… Jack wanted to hide.

"Oh, God." He said again for good measure, sounding wounded, and turned away from her.

"Sir, really I only-"

"Don't!" He cut her off. "Just don't. Don't say anything at all. Go."

"Sir, I think if we just-"

His voice took on an edge of anger. "I said go, Major, that was an order."

Sam stiffened. "Yes, sir."

He went the opposite way. Outside, Sam assumed, to find the rain bucket and clean himself up.

She didn't get much sleep the remainder of the night. The next morning, O'Neill pretended as if nothing had happened. He ordered the units around dispassionately all day. After being so desperate to get home yesterday, O'Neill almost seemed happy to delay it as long as possible today. Finally, as nightfall came, he ordered everyone through the gate.

"But," Daniel protested, "at least let me have a look at the markings on the other stones SG-4 found this morning."

"Another time, Daniel. There are more important things going on than your little scratches in stone."

After they stepped through the gate, General Hammond greeted them. They were given a clean bill of health from the infirmary and had some time to shower, change, and grab something to eat from the mess before the debrief, which was quick and to the point. Daniel would go back with SG-11 in two weeks to further investigate the obelisks and other structures they found.

"Sir, a moment." Jack requested of the General, following the debrief.

Once in his office, Jack took a seat and seemed to search for the right words to begin. Just then, Sam knocked on the office door.

"Major Carter," General Hammond said, "come back in a few minutes."

Sam risked, "No, Sir."

Hammond turned his head suspiciously. He got up and opened the door, half-considering reaming her out, half-worried there was a crisis. Why else would the normally by-the-rules-Major Carter interrupt?

"Sir, I believe what I have to say relates to why Colonel O'Neill is here."

Jack wouldn't look up. "Carter, I think you should go."

"Did you tell him yet?" She asked cryptically.

Hammond asked, "Tell me what?" Looking between his two officers.

Sam answered, "It's nothing, we had a little misunderstanding on P2X-577. It's nothing that the Colonel and myself can't handle once we have a moment to talk."

Hammond looked as if he were waiting.

Sam clarified, "In private, Sir."

General Hammond gave a curt nod. Grateful that whatever it was, it was one less thing he had to handle. "Dismissed."

"Carter," Jack started in, following her into the now empty briefing room. "I appreciate what you're trying to do here. But-"

"Not here." Sam hissed, lowering her voice. "This is a conversation to have off-base. Mel's Bar in an hour."

She walked off without giving Jack a chance to respond.


	2. Calculated risk

Part 2: Calculated Risk

Mel's Grill and Bar was the sort of place that was popular in 1954. It was once attached to a bowling alley and it stopped serving real food three decades ago. Now it was a "dive bar" in the best sense.

Mel's was close to both Daniel's and Sam's house. Therefore, it was the place the two of them would suggest SG-1 hang out together, when they had some time off over the years. It had pool, darts, cheap drinks, and a loud atmosphere, so if the discussion happened to turn to symbiotes and wormholes no one would ever notice.

The only problem was it was a distance from where Jack lived. He had to drive the furthest and was forever reminding them of that fact. In the past, he advocated a meeting place half-way between his house and the others. However, Jack was overruled 3 to 1 every time.

Usually, Jack liked to gripe endlessly while at Mel's just for kicks. But this time, complaining didn't seem quite appropriate. Not when it appeared that Sam wasn't going to ruin his career, or disassemble SG-1. Not yet anyway.

Jack pulled up in the parking lot and cut the engine of his truck. He took four deep breaths. He'd never been completely respectful of authority during his long military career. Yet, he'd do anything protect the opportunity to keep going through the 'gate along side the three people he truly cared about. Jack trusted Teal'c, Daniel, and Carter more than he could ever try to explain to others. He hoped against hope that this last screw up didn't undo Carter's trust in him. But he wouldn't blame her if it did.

Carter. Could one word mean a thousand things all at once? To Jack it meant figuring out how they could travel to all these worlds and get back home in one piece, saving them countless times from danger and death. But it wasn't just her brains, it was also her personality – that she always got his jokes, she respected her teammates, showed compassion for everyone she met, she was a good solider, and an even better friend. Cater was brains, grace, and to top it all off, beautiful. It was an unreal combination that Jack was in awe of, even after all these years.

He cared for her way more than he was supposed to. But also, he'd be lost without her at his side every time they faced a dangerous situation. Which one was worth the sacrifice for the other?

Jack entered Mel's, and of course, it looked no different than usual. It probably looked no different than it did when his grandfather was still alive. Old men sat at the bar, the jukebox played Buddy Holly, and a group of 20-somethings were shooting pool. A waitress with curly brown hair asked if he'd like a table.

"I'm meeting," Jack spotted Sam and pointed, "her." He ordered a beer from the waitress before making his way to where Sam was sitting.

"Hi," she offered cheerfully.

That was about the last thing O'Neill expected. She'd gone from dismal-wet-Carter to cheerful-Carter in less than 30 hours. In between, she had to fight off her filthy, old man of a CO and also put on a good face for General Hammond. Shouldn't she be ready to shoot someone right about now? Be pissed as hell? In the very least, be a little bit mad at him?

"Hi," he said carefully, sliding into the chair across from her.

Jack wouldn't look her in the eye. That was what Sam centered in on, and it crushed her. She refused to loose everything over this. Jack O'Neill was just going to have to get over himself.

"Look," Sam started, "I know you feel uncomfortable about what happened."

"Uncomfortable?" Jack grunted. Leave it to Carter to cut right to the chase. He hadn't even gotten his beer yet. Whatever happened to common courtesy, please? "Carter, uncomfortable doesn't even come close."

"Sir, it was a…" Sam tried to find the right word.

"It was a court marshallable offense." Jack finished for her.

"It wasn't that offensive."

Jack paused, raised a brow slightly. "Oh?"

Sam blushed, she hadn't meant for it to sound quite that way. Her main mission here was to make sure the Colonel knew that she wasn't angry or disgusted by him. She also wanted to make sure he didn't do or say something that would result in the military stepping in.

The rest of it, the personal side, well, Sam hadn't had time to process that just yet. She'd lock it away to deal with that part later. Much later. When images of him weren't quite so fresh and didn't make her pulse race… which was likely to happen somewhere around the time of never.

Denial, the other subject Sam held a PhD in, was currently being worn like a pair of rose-colored glasses. She was using those denial glasses to stay focused on her main mission, like the good solider everyone expected her to be.

The waitress came back with a beer for Jack. He drank deeply, and then set it down, waiting for Carter to elaborate on her offhanded comment.

"I'm- we're…" Sam stopped, redirected her thoughts, and started again stronger this time. "We've admitted things before. But neither of us is going to act on it, so you don't deserve to be in trouble for something that…" He finally met her eyes. "You know," she finished, leaving the rest to their unspoken communication.

She was saving him, saving his career, but risking her own. Jack reminded, "If this comes to light later on and you didn't report it…"

"Who's going to tell?" Sam asked flatly. "Sir, we-"

"Jack."

She was caught off-guard by his interruption. "Sorry?"

O'Neill's face was scrunched up as if he were suffering internal pain. "When we're discussing my X-rated wet dreams can you please drop the military protocol?"

"Sure…" Sam almost stumbled over it, "Jack," his name feeling unnatural on her tongue. Especially given the topic of conversation. She decided immediately to change the subject, at least for a short time anyway. They discussed Teal'c, Cassandra, and a few other things going on.

Then, Jack said unexpectedly, "In those other reality thingys you and I were still a part of the SGC. It seemed to work."

Sam tilted her head and regarded him for a moment. She wondered how long he'd bottled up that thought inside, or if it only finally occurred to him now.

Sam kept her response light and casual. "Who knows if the same would happen here?"

"Yeah, but don't you wonder sometimes if it's worth the risk?"

She marveled, were they really going to talk about this? After all this time, were they considering…? No, they couldn't. They shouldn't.

Jack kept focused down at his beer as he spoke evenly. "You are always the one in the field saying that it's a risk, but it's worth it. Calculated risk, Carter, you're the queen of it." After a beat, "I guess you've calculated it out and I'm not worth it?"

It was almost sad, the way he said it, pretending to be off-handed. Sam wasn't fooled. Her heart gripped, realizing now, for the first time that Jack believed he wasn't worthy. Oh, how many shades of wrong he was. If only she were free, if things were different.

"Sir," she said, forgetting, and falling into old habits. "That's misinterpreting things a little."

"Really?"

"You know I-" Sam caught herself. She couldn't build up his self-confidence without admitting things she wasn't ready to say out loud.

Sam closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself. It was time to save her dignity, cover up the wanting and the loss that inevitably came with it, and get out of this conversation before it went too far.

"Look," she said, "General Hammond doesn't need to know anything that would change things. We'll forget what happened on P7X-522 and move on to the next mission."

"For how long?"

"What do you mean?"

Jack spoke slower, "For how long?" He met her eyes in challenge. "How long are we going to pretend?"

There was a flutter of hungry anticipation in her belly. Sam couldn't seem to control her response, no matter how hard she was trying to clamp down on it. Waves of longing crashed through her, followed by a deep sadness.

Sam spoke hardly above a whisper. "I'm just not ready, not yet," she said, fighting back her emotions.

It was more than she had planned to admit to him, and it shocked her. She needed air, she need to get away from him so she could breathe. Sam slid out of her chair and was gone.

Jack didn't even try to stop her. It seemed she needed some space and time. He would give her that, for now. But the last 30 hours had made clear that there was much more going on here than he could ever hope to comprehend. Still, sooner or later it would all reveal itself, it always did.

A/N: There will be more posted soon. I have an outline for where I think this story is going. But any suggestions, fun ideas, etc. are very much welcome


	3. Deconstructing reason

a notes: Sorry for the considerable delay but a lengthy business trip and two deaths in the family have gotten in the way. Funerals really make your muse go into hiding for a few weeks. Things are better now and the writing bug has returned. Thanks to any of you that are still reading and have stuck with this, it's a little thing but it does matter.

Part 3: Deconstructing reason

Sam lounged in her bathtub and examined the wrappings on her left arm that she was carefully keeping dry. It had been close, but SG-1 had made it home from another mission. Again, despite the odds stacked against them and it all going wrong, they had come through it as they always managed too. It was training, intelligence, and probably a little more than their fair share of luck.

SG-1, and Sam especially, had been through much more than the average. Her body had been through much more than any should, and she was emotionally and physically drained. She'd suffered a concussion recently. Now this mission had gone bad and once again, she'd returned battered and broken. Each time, it seemed to take longer to heal than the last time, and it was starting to take its toll. Sometimes, she felt like she wasn't going to be a whole person ever again.

Sam had pledged her life to duty, honor, and country. She followed orders, played by the rules. But there were still moments, like now in her bathtub, that she wondered was it worth it? Then Sam would admonish herself for even doubting for a second—to learn physics and biology way beyond what was currently understood here on Earth; to gain an appreciation for history, life, and the universe; to explore, as mankind had always looked to do; and most important, to protect Earth's inhabitants from untold evil—it was well worth it. It was also pretty lofty and grand. For a person to endure day in and day out, there were these tiny moments of doubt because wasn't she merely human after all?

She was human, and she had human wants and needs that she often ignored. But Sam couldn't always ignore them. There were times when Jack O'Neill would say something he shouldn't, like, "A lot more than I'm supposed to," and it would melt her insides and stir things she shouldn't feel. Only to turn around and pretend it never happened. How did she become so good at pretending? And why, after everything they'd been through, did she still bother with the act?

The military dictated that she couldn't have him and maybe that was all it was, the desire for the unattainable. The forbidden fruit that was only enticing because it was forbidden. It sounded like decent pop-psychology. But there was something that didn't quite ring true in such a simple answer. This thing between them was far more complex. Over the years, she'd tried not to think about it, tried not to analyze too much. She pretended that the rules didn't make her feel trapped, not free to make her own choices, caged. For years, she'd struggled to ignore her feelings and 'Just move on to the next mission' had become her internal mantra.

But God help her, rational analysis was her best talent and it was hard not being herself. Worse, Sam had a sneaking suspicion that if she began to explore it, she'd discover more than just rules where at issue. Especially in times like these, lonesome, shaken up from the recent mission, Sam wondered what, if anything, would change if they didn't work together?

Sam had her memories, including a prominent one of heated actions behind shoji screens. Her imagination fed off those precious few memories of stolen moments. Tonight, her brain would not shut off even when she ordered it to, and it kept replaying the scene, causing her body to betray her and respond. Her heart raced, her skin grew hot, and her hand slipped between her legs.

Sam sat up straight when she heard the knock at the front door, pulling her out of a daydream where she and Jack were snuggled together post-bliss. Immediately, she knew that it was her neighbor, Mrs. Clarkson, from across the street.

Mrs. Clarkson was the neighborhood spy. From her kitchen window out front, she managed to keep an eye on everything that happened. The upside was she noticed when Sam didn't come home for more than a few days. After about four days, she'd take it upon herself to collect Sam's mail.

Sam was sure Mrs. Clarkson had a whole bunch of wacky theories about what kept Sam away for days, sometimes weeks, on a regular basis. But Mrs. Clarkson never questioned, and for that, Sam was grateful. It was one thing lying to others, but it was much harder doing it to a little old lady who looked liked everybody's grandmother.

Her neighbor had called half an hour ago to tell Sam she'd be over later with the collected mail and some cookies. Sam appreciated it, but didn't want to get caught in a lengthy, gossip-filled visit with Mrs. Clarkson. So, Sam decided to make it obvious that her bath was being interrupted. Which wasn't a lie—another upside.

She stepped from the tub, grabbed a towel, wrapped it around her middle and padded through her house leaving little puddles on the floor. As she got closer, another knock at the door could be heard, this time much more hesitant than the first.

"Just a minute," Sam called. Moments later she opened the door saying, "Sorry, Mrs. Clarkson, I was just in the-"

Sam stopped mid-sentence. Damn. That was what having a window in the front door was for. For looking first and not opening it to Jack O'Neill when you're naked.

Well, OK, not totally naked, but it felt that way to Sam. She pulled the towel tighter around herself and shrunk back a little. She was positive her cheeks had gone bright red.

"Sir," she managed to squeak out. It was unbalancing her that just seconds before she was thinking of him inappropriately. Embarrassment and tension flooded her, and Sam realized that it must have been exactly what O'Neill felt like when she caught him on P7X-522.

"Carter," he acknowledged. Jack was doing an admirable job not straying from focusing on her eyes and not giving away any kind of response to her lack of dress.

"Sorry, I was-" Sam stumbled over her words. "I thought you were Mrs. Clarkson. She's my neighbor. She has my mail."

Stop babbling, Sam told herself, this was embarrassing enough. "Ah, do you need something from me?"

Jack's eyebrow moved up, ever so slightly. Not enough to be a Teal'c impression. But enough that Sam knew he was thinking, very carefully, about how to answer that question.

"Just checking on you. See if you were OK. Didn't catch you before you were released from the infirmary and left the base."

Yeah, she had done that on purpose. But before Sam had to fumble around for an excuse, Mrs. Clarkson came up the walk.

"Sam, my dear, what happened to your arm?"

Sam gave her neighbor a smile. "Mrs. Clarkson, I'm fine, it's nothing."

"Well, well, who is this nice looking man?" Mrs. Clarkson was now looking Jack up and down. He apparently passed inspection. "Are you two going out on a date tonight?"

It didn't seem to faze O'Neill. He just stood still, allowing Mrs. Clarkson to get a good look, but Sam didn't miss the humor pass in his eyes.

"No," Sam answered, maybe a little too sharply. "We work together."

"Oh, that's nice." Mrs. Clarkson was hardly listening to Sam and was directing all her attention on Jack. "Sam needs a good, strong man around here to help her. She's needed someone ever since her father moved away and left the house to Sam—poor girl lives all alone. Did you know that the gutter on the right side is coming down? A man like you could be very helpful, I'm sure."

"I'm sure," said Jack.

Sam felt like she wanted to die right then and there, sinking into the ground, so no one could see her ever again.

"Mail?" Sam asked sweetly, desperate to change the topic, fast.

"Oh yes, sorry, dear." Mrs. Clarkson held the bundle of mail out, along with a Ziploc bag full of cookies.

But that's when it finally occurred to Sam that she was in a towel, one that she was keeping up with only the one uninjured arm and hand. O'Neill obviously grasped the situation sooner than Sam did, because he reached out and took the things.

"Thanks, Mrs. Clarkson. I'll take that," he said.

"Oh, aren't you a dear." Mrs. Clarkson patted Jack on the cheek and turned to go. "Now, go inside Sam, before you catch cold." She called over her shoulder, "Enjoy your evening, you two!" as she crossed the street.

Sam stepped aside, allowing O'Neill in. She didn't say anything, not sure what the right words would be exactly, and disappeared to her room to pull on some clothes.

When Sam reappeared, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, Jack was munching on a cookie and flipping through her mail. She almost laughed despite herself. Anyone who knew General O'Neill knew that he wasn't being nosey. I was just habit, he always had to fool with something in his hands.

"Thanks," said Sam, "for taking things in for me."

"No problem." Jack held up the half-eaten cookie. "Figure this is payment enough."

"Sure. Help yourself."

"Need me to look at that gutter too?" He was teasing.

Sam gave him a weak smile, and tried not to sound as awkward as she felt. "Mrs. Clarkson means well."

"Yes, I'm sure she does." He said, sitting there on her sofa, looking like he had no intension of ever leaving.

Since P2X-577, Jack was beginning to wonder if he should clarify that he wasn't just fascinated by her body. Well, wasn't _only_ fascinated by that alone. What he felt went way beyond the fantasies Sam now knew that he had. He wanted to make sure she understood that he respected her, and cared about her in other ways too. But he was crap at forming the right words. Especially when at that moment, freshly scrubbed and wearing tight fitting jeans, she was looking oh so very… civilian.

Jack ducked his head, focused on his cookie, and tried to say something that hinted at it, without revealing too much.

"You should take her advice. She's not the only one who thinks you should get a life. Get a boyfriend, Carter, might do you some good. And the gutters too, apparently."

"I can take care of myself."

"Yes, yes you can." Jack stood up, brushing off crumbs. "I'm not saying you can't." He was backpedaling but he seemed to be challenging her all the same.

This wasn't good. This was going into dangerous territory in multiple ways. Sam knew she shouldn't get into an argument with her commanding officer. But it was probably easier to argue than to talk about what was really going on.

Things hadn't been the same recently. Not that they hadn't had a million other awkward moments between them over the years that left much between them unsaid. But something about the incident months ago on P2X-577 had lingered worse than usual.

"Sir, I'd rather we change the subject before one of us says something we'll regret." It was said with such an edge to it, that it even surprised Sam.

He grunted a laugh. It was his 'I see irony here and I am loving every minute of it' response. "Regret? Carter, you don't have regrets."

What the hell did that mean? She shook her head, trying to clear her mind and her irritation. "What?"

O'Neill seemed to catch himself now, realizing maybe he'd gone too far. Sam could see the hesitation in his eyes. He could leave now, leave it at this or finish where it was going. What would happen then? What if he completely backed away forever? Or what if he really pushed them both, finally, just to lay it all out there?

Sam stopped thinking—it was completely unCarterlike—but the years of strain and half-conversations that never finished, it all had built up to this. There was something just plain visceral and tempting about standing on the edge of the cliff looking down. Like she had no other choice but to jump.

"We can't be together." Sam said in an insubordinate tone she'd never used with him, ever. "But, Sir, you won't let me go, either. You keep holding on and holding me back. I'm not free to be with someone else, not totally, not when you look at me… like that way you do sometimes. It's not fair. Either something changes and we're together, or please let me go. Let me move on."

There was a long, heavy silence. He didn't move, didn't speak. But he watched her. It stung, more than he was allowing her to see.

Then Jack said, ever so slowly and carefully, "Which way were you hoping this would go, Carter?"

Sam breathed. She didn't realize she'd been holding it in. "I don't know." She retreated to the kitchen, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No. Maybe we should, you know… talk. You know how much I _love _doing that. Almost as much as listening." He was being sarcastic and grumpy and Sam wanted nothing to do with this now.

Jack's biting cynicism dripped on his words, "Blame me, Carter, like it's all my fault. Like you don't have just as many issues. That's real nice." It was like something had shattered, the way he spoke. "You know what? I won't get in the way any longer."

He turned to leave and Sam followed him down the hall to the front door.

"Sir, I-"

"Don't," he whirled around and gestured like an umpire calling safe. "Like someone famous once said, let's just pretend this little conversation didn't happen and move on to the next mission."

Sam hardly slept that night. She woke in the morning groggy and moody. What she needed was work or any distraction from her oh-so-reasonable life.


	4. Uncomfortable middle ground

a.n. others have written lovely stories about an era in the Sam and Jack saga that we all know and love. But I only pass over it in the beginning of this chapter because it's not what my story happens to be about. I simply drop in a few details to show the passage of time, and the long journey it takes to change, grow, and undo years of making the wrong choices.

Part 4: Uncomfortable middle ground

Sam rolled over and looked at the clock. Middle of the night, and she couldn't sleep. She really should get up and do something to distract her mind. But there was probably nothing that could effectively do that tonight.

Things were still a little uncomfortable between her and her commanding officer. But among the good and the bad events over the last month, one particular event's aftermath had helped get them back on some sort of middle ground now. The way O'Neill had been there for Sam, at her side, after her father passed away was especially poignant. Followed by a quick trip, filled with the boys arguing over video games, mosquito repellent, and Star Wars. It ended up serving as the perfect distraction to help ease the heavy heart she carried.

Now that they were back, she was stronger. Her team had settled back into their routines, and for once, confusing thoughts of Jack O'Neill were not what prevented Sam from sleeping tonight. It was the dream she had the night before.

Sam was a little girl again, in the kitchen of her childhood home. Her mom was cooking some lavish meal and baking several desserts, it was a common sight growing up. Sam's mom loved to cook and have friends and family over for big, loud, enjoyable meals together.

Sam was helping in the preparation by stirring sauce in a pot and sprinkling crumbled cheese into it. Her mom was telling her stories and making Sam laugh. Despite the fact that it was fun, Sam wished she were out at the ball field. The moment could have been a memory from any number of times in her life, until the conversation changed tone.

"Samantha, I'm worried about you."

"Why, Mom?"

"I know things. I wish I could help make them easier on you." Her mom stepped closer and put an arm around Sam's shoulders. "You may not have much time left to make it right with him. It might already be too late."

"Mom?" Sam asked, confused.

"It's not about protecting yourself, Samantha, or being in control."

Sam was totally confused. As she turned her head to say something in response, she noticed the reflection in the door of the double oven. Her mom was standing next to her, but Sam was no longer a child, she was an adult.

Sam sat up in bed. She couldn't keep dwelling on it. Sure, it had been years since she dreamed of her mother. But it was just a long-lost memory, probably twisted now and resurfacing because of the recent loss of her dad as well. She got up and got dressed, intending to go into work early, but couldn't shake the image.

As an adult, Sam had never known her mom. It just didn't make sense, and then there was the terrible impression that Sam was being warned. That something awful was about to happen. But in reality, this was the first time in years that Sam could realistically relax a little. Doom was not impending.

Sam swiped her card to gain access to the elevator. At 0457 the base was pretty quiet, but of course it wasn't empty. She stopped in the mess to get a cup of coffee and a banana, carried them back to her lab and sat down at her computer.

After 45 minutes of working on a report, Sam abandoned it, moved the mouse sideways, and double clicked. She pushed thoughts out of her head that told her she was being silly and paranoid and began research on the Internet about dream interpretation, visions, and sightings from beyond the grave. Soon, she was so caught up in reading one particular Web page with a lengthy article on Banshees in Ireland that she didn't hear anyone enter.

"Sam…" Daniel's voice right behind her left ear started her.

"Daniel!"

"What are you doing?" He sounded a little amused.

"You scared me."

"Obviously." Daniel moved from where he was reading over her shoulder, pulled up a stool, and sat down next to her. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing." She'd been caught slacking off at work. It was completely uncharacteristic for the goody-two-shoes Colonel Carter. She self-consciously started to close down all the open windows on her desktop.

Daniel pushed further. "Banshees have something to do with that artifact we can't figure out?"

"Ah, no." Sam smiled, embarrassed. "I was just caught up in something else. It's nothing."

"OK." Daniel squinted at her. "It's just that you've been looking run down, tried, and not quite yourself lately. I was worried even before I found you researching death mythology. You sure you're OK?"

"Yeah, great." But Sam's stomach twisted and fell. If her friends thought she looked sick, maybe it was another sign. How many should she ignore?

Sam had a briefing that lasted more than an hour, followed by a conference call with Area 51, but eventually that afternoon she found some spare time. Sam stopped by the infirmary, not even sure how to begin the conversation... "I'm probably dying. Not sure of what exactly, but I don't have much time…"

The base doctors had seen just about everything and rarely were shocked by much anymore. But the ridiculousness of what Sam was about to do worried her.

Suddenly a wave of loss swept Sam, she missed Janet. This would've been the type of thing Sam would not have second-guessed going to her friend with. She was learning to move on, and time had helped a great deal, but there were still these moments.

It was with lingering sadness surrounding her that Sam spoke to a doctor. Perhaps the mood she was in was what made the problem believable and concerning. Even though Sam described a list of indiscriminate symptoms– achiness, exhaustion, trouble sleeping, visions– all of which could be just about anything.

Knowledge of Sam's recent loss of both her best friend and her father led the doctor to believe it was depression. He prescribed something to help her sleep, but he said he would run a few tests to rule out other causes, just in case.

A week later, Sam looked up from the piece of alien technology she was fiddling with on her lab bench as O'Neill entered the room slowly.

"Sir?"

His long pause in order to gather himself made realization dawn, and Sam knew immediately what it must be. Of course Jack would want to be the one to tell her. The longer he stood there, the more her mind raced with thoughts of how bad the news must be.

"Your tests came back normal." He said flatly.

"What?" Sam blinked. "No, that can't be. They will just have to-"

"Carter," O'Neill cut her off. "No more rounds of tests on you. That's an order."

Sam stood up, anger blazing in her eyes, but every other aspect of her body and voice followed protocol.

"With all due respect, Sir, I request that-"

"No more tests." His outburst bounced off the walls, "Just stop."

"Why don't you believe me?" Sam was aggravated. "After everything we've seen? You of all people, I would have thought you would support me on this. Maybe it's Jolinar, or something else. I don't understand it, but I just know. You have to believe me."

"I do." He lowered his head, studied the floor for a moment.

Sam's voice dropped, carefully she asked, "Then why…?"

"I do believe you. I made the doctors also run some tests on the rest of your team. Your… intuition thingy was right." Finally, Jack raised his eyes and met hers. "You were just off slightly."

Sam couldn't bear to hear it. If he never said it aloud, then maybe it would never be true. The tension in the room was palpable; it just wasn't the usual kind between them.

Jack said the words, hardly above a whisper. They seemed to pour from him in a way that was anything but typical for Jack O'Neill. All Sam heard—all she could manage to handle were bits and pieces. "…Surgery…specialists from Denver…medical retirement…chemotherapy…"

"No," Sam choked a little, trying to fight it. She whispered, "You may not have much time left to make it right with him. It might already be too late."

"What?" Jack asked. He stepped closer and realized Sam was shaking. She wasn't making any sense and he was worried that she was in shock.

"I thought she meant me." Sam said, her blue eyes becoming watery at the edges. "I thought I was the one who didn't have much time left. She meant… she must have meant you."

Jack reached out, as if he might touch her cheek or pull her into an embrace. But someone passed in the hallway outside the lab, and both of them backed away. It was enough of a distraction, and a reminder, to allow Sam to pull herself together.

"I," Sam cleared her throat. "I should probably get back to my, uh..."

"Yeah, I've got to-" Jack pointed off to the hallway unenthusiastically then scratched at the back of his head. "Hammond's here and I've got a meeting with him. There's a bunch of stuff he wants to go over. You wouldn't believe the stack of paperwork. It's at least three times more than what I gotta do when someone gets shot."

Jack was trying to lighten things up. Plus, he honestly would find that ironic, and therefore, feel the need to share with anyone and everyone. Sam nodded, keeping her attention on the techno-guts spread out across her lab bench, so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"I told Teal'c and Daniel already, but no one else." Jack said. "They're in Teal'c's quarters, maybe you want to join them? I'll try to come by later when I can."

"Sure."

"So… later then." He backed out of the lab.

Once he was gone, Sam closed her eyes and dropped her head into her hands.

Hours later, SG-1 was gathered in Teal'c's room. Empty pizza boxes were spread out, and both Daniel and O'Neill had a beer in hand. Sam tried to act as if this was just like every other night. As if returning to normalcy was a direct result of pretending things were normal.

Jack finally got around to addressing why they were all there, after Daniel had gotten a little tipsy. Sam suspected maybe that was the plan all along; it had been several times in the past. Tonight, she wondered if Jack wished she were drunk as well.

"…And while T's on Dakara and Danny-boy's on his dig, Carter, they want you to oversee some research. I don't understand the details, but apparently, it's a pretty impressive promotion. Includes a lot of geeky lab rat types that you get to order around all day. General Landry's going to be great, I promise, you'll all be in good hands."

Teal'c bowed his head in reverence. "But they will not be yours, O'Neill, and that will be a great sorrow."

"Thanks."

"Wait," Daniel raised his hand like in school to interrupt. "I, for one, am not leaving when you need us, Jack. You need friends around you in a time like this."

"I'm gonna be fine." Jack countered. "Besides, you and Teal'c can come home for a few days, now and then. We'll do a poker night or something. But I'm warning you, I won't have interesting news other than 'Adventures in Hospital Food.' Sure you want to bother coming back for that?"

Sam worried her lip.

There was so much O'Neill held inside, like a controlled storm sealed inside a bottle. He was an expert at the flippant attitude, the stupidity act, the carefully constructed façade. One that allowed him to lie right to your face while at the same time, the complete opposite emotion brewed a storm on the inside. He let precious few see glimpses of what lay behind that façade, and only a handful of times over the years Sam had been granted that privilege, some were happy memories, some painful. She'd seen enough to know Jack O'Neill was a deeper man than it seemed. But not nearly enough times for Sam to ever fully understand his depth.

Still, once in a while, Sam believed she could see through his act when no one else could. Like tonight, as Sam watched his deliberate movements and precisely chosen words, she knew either he wasn't accepting things or he was putting on an act. Whichever it was, Sam didn't like it.


	5. Someday is today

Part 5: Someday is today

Jack O'Neill lay on his couch staring at the ceiling. He recognized the signs of sliding into depression. He knew it well right after Charlie was gone. Back then Jack wanted to die. In fact, he would have been grateful for this diagnosis and not bothered to seek treatment. Irony, his dear old friend, was back at it again.

Today, Jack wasn't so sure about his life. On the one hand, this was about to be a nightmare. Why, oh why couldn't he have just been shot and killed instantly? It would've been a whole lot easier on everyone involved. But then again, Jack had more in his life now than he ever believed he deserved. Shouldn't he fight for it? Really, there was only one tiny thing missing, and she hinted at "someday."

It seemed like a lifetime ago when Sam told Jack that she wasn't ready… _yet_. That conversation, and the look in her eyes, had lingered in his mind and allowed him to hold onto hope, even when it seemed ridiculous to do so.

"Someday" suddenly had odds against it and that was what startled Jack most. In the middle of the day, filled with doctors and nurses and the bleeping machines, he wanted Sam now—and not in the way that those words usually meant. He didn't want to go though what he was about to go through alone. He wanted Sam there for support, her smile, and mostly her brains. Well, of course, looking at her body would've just been an added bonus to pass the long hours of boredom like it sometimes did on missions.

Despite what he wanted, Jack knew that he probably shouldn't ask Carter to be at his side through this. It wasn't her job anymore and if he asked her for other reasons, more personal reasons… _don't go there_,he ordered himself.

It was another irony of his life that in the field Carter would follow any order he gave like a good second in command, but when it came to her personal life she wouldn't stand for being pushed– by anyone. There was some complexity, something else about Sam that caused her not go too far, not with him, not with Pete, not with anyone. It seemed that this diagnosis meant that some other lucky bastard would convince her one day to get over her hang-ups. Jack's stomach turned, his heart gripped with grief. If only he could find a way to accept it.

Sam attempted to pour herself into work, for days on end, over the last week hoping that it would keep her mind occupied. But it wasn't working. After dropping into a sound sleep in her bed at home for 5 solid hours, Sam woke up and felt marginally better. She lay awake in the dark wondering, wishing, regretting. What did Jack say to her once? That she had no regrets? He had no idea.

Sam finally got up and wandered out onto her deck to watch the stars, remembering a time off-world when O'Neill had entertained them all by making up constellations in that foreign night sky. He had also described made-up mythological stories about each one that sometimes bordered on lewd. Poor Daniel had to explain half of them to Teal'c.

Sam smiled briefly at the memory. Then her heart ached, remembering that they would likely never be in the field together again. So many things were changing far too fast and it hurt, worse than any pain she'd ever known.

First Janet, then her father, and now maybe O'Neill, was she doomed? Why now– after everything they'd been through and all the times she'd almost lost Jack– why did this time feel so different?

She was powerless. That was what triggered fear this time, fear unlike she'd ever known before. This time there was no Tok'ra symbiote, no Ancient technology, no calculations or techno-magic that she could do to save him. Jack O'Neill, the one who escaped every alien-influenced death imaginable, had something as everyday as cancer. With it, the choice that she had never been allowed to make seemed to be slipping from her hands forever, with odds against "someday" delivered by a well-meaning oncologist.

Suddenly, Sam stood and went inside. In the dream, her mom had told her to do something before it was too late, and maybe she was right. Sam changed from PJs, forcing her rational mind not to analyze, and pulled on clothes. She took her car keys and left.

"Don't think," Sam ordered herself while starting the car. She kept focused on driving and speed limits– the last thing she needed was another ticket– and as many mundane things as she could.

She sat in her car, parked in his driveway, disobeying her own order. She was thinking.

Sam had done this many times before. One of those times was not that long ago, and like so many moments over the years, that conversation was interrupted and never finished. But maybe it was finally the right time to finish it.

When Jack caught sight of a very nervous, disheveled looking Carter standing at his front door, he almost stumbled. "Hi."

"Hi."

Sam sighed, thinking, _well this was going swimmingly so far_. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." Jack stepped aside. "What are you doing here?" This felt a little too _deja vous_ for him. She always seemed to show up when he was far more likely to die, then when he was likely to live.

"I- wanted to-" Sam struggled to find the right words.

"I'm fine." Jack said, knowing where this would lead. That's when he saw it, in her eyes.

It was exactly like that moment years ago on Apophis' ship, with failed armbands on the ground, only inches apart, a shield between them, they stood frozen and staring into each other's eyes. Time was running out and death was imminent. But this time it was all in reverse, she would never leave him.

Sam crossed the space between them in a fraction of a second, cupped her hands on either side of his face, and kissed his lips with such fierce passion it nearly knocked Jack over.

After a moment, he stopped being stunned and gave in. It was fantastic having her snuggly against him, lips locked with his, demanding, wanting. His exhausted body started humming with renewed energy and his mind began to numb. Except some tiny remaining part of his consciousness refused to let go. This, happening now, it wasn't quite…

"Whoa," Jack said around her lips, putting his hands on her shoulders. He pushed her back.

His cynicism wanted to come out and play. He wanted to say something frivolous to Zat the tension in the room. Or maybe allow his frustration to come out as anger toward her for treating him this way. Finally coming to him only now, only to grant a dying man's wish.

"Some kind of pity fuck, Carter?"

Sam sucked in her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. It was a little too crude even for him. But could she really blame him for seeing it that way? Jack didn't know how much had changed for her on the inside. How could he, when she only allowed him to see the Air Force rank, the researcher, the doctor, but never the woman.

"I didn't-" Sam breathed out, "Sorry."

A thousand emotions fluttered across her face. He couldn't identify them, except for one, hurt. With it, all his anger deflated. All it took was the mere suggestion that she was hurting, and worse, his vulgar tendencies did it to her.

"Not that I'm not flattered." He said, softer now in an attempt to be nicer. "But…"

"I understand." Sam lowered her head.

"Hey, hey," Jack said, lifting her chin with his finger, forcing her to look at him. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're here." After a long pause, in which a thousand unsaid words passed between them, he added, "Finally."

Sam knew exactly what he was trying to say, in his very cryptic O'Neill fashion. With tears threatening, she spoke volumes beyond the simple words themselves. "I just hope that I'm not too late."

"Carter. It's never too late."

Sam breathed deep, releasing the tension. She knew in that moment much of it was gone and what damage remained had already starting the healing process. Now, all they needed was time. Jack reached for her and held her in a tight hug for several minutes.

"I'm sorry," she said muffled against his shoulder. "I'm sorry for everything. For so long."

"I know," said Jack.

"I'm here now."

"Yeah, I noticed that. I'm glad."

"Me too." Sam added, "and it's not just because of the diagnosis. Well, sort of but only because it forced me to think and I-"

"Carter." He cut her off before it became one of her famous endless rambling speeches. "I know."

She wanted to make sure he understood. "It's not pity."

"I was being an ass, I'm sorry."

She whispered, "It's OK." Hurting each other had always been easy for some reason, but because of everything that defined them, forgiveness always had been easy too.

As they fell into silence again, Sam closed her eyes and allowed herself to bask in the moment, in his arms, surrounded by his strength, his warmth, his being alive.

Having his arms full of Samantha Carter was just about the best thing in the galaxy and Jack figured there were three ways this could go from here. One, he could break down crying for joy and relief. But that might just freak them both out. Or he could kiss her silly and the two of them go at it like rabbits. While that held definite appeal, Jack was tired from such a long, emotional, physically draining day. He was sure he couldn't bring his 'A' game, and Sam deserved nothing less than his 'A' game. Besides, this was all very new and fragile, and so he decided on choice C, none of the above. A lot depended on him acting like a gentlemen tonight and not scaring her off, or messing stuff up.

Jack suggested, "Sit for a while?" He went into the kitchen, got two ice teas out of the fridge, and then returned to his living room, where Sam was already settling on the couch.

She asked carefully, "So, how was today?" while taking the offered tea.

"Do I have to talk about it?" Jack complained, "Always with the talking." But his tone was for the most part light and teasing.

A brief smile flirted with her lips. "No, it's OK. You don't have to talk about it. We can just sit here if you want."

Jack leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. They sat in silence for a long while. Just as Sam was positive he'd drifted off, Jack spoke before opening his eyes again.

"All right," he sighed, straightening up a little. "Fine. We'll do the talking thing."

"I said-"

"Carter, I can hear your brain working all the way over here and it's making me nutso. What is it?"

"We tried to contact the Tok'ra and the Asgard but-"

"No way." O'Neill cut her off. "I don't want a snake in my head. Even if it comes down to that being my only choice." Both briefly remembered a time before when he did that very thing, for her.

"Look, Carter. I refuse, no matter the odds, to believe this is how it ends." Jack looked at her with humorless eyes. "I'm supposed to die on the battlefield one day, a long time from now, when I'm too old to be out in the field. I'm on a routine mission and get shot three times but the team gets back OK. That's how it's supposed to happen, not like this."

Sam was stunned. "You've thought about this."

"Yeah, and I'm gonna face this cancer thing like I face any mission gone bad. Stay calm, not listen to you and Daniel spouting the odds of our hair-brained plan _not_ working. I'm gonna fight hard as hell, and put my trust in you."

O'Neill hadn't planned on asking. In fact, he wholeheartedly decided it was best not too. But with Carter here, now, everything felt different. Her sitting quietly beside him, full of life and warmth and everything that made him want to live, Jack couldn't help himself. He'd grovel if he had too.

"Today the docs were talking just like you do when you make my head hurt. You speak their language. I need you to listen to them and make the decisions and get me though this like you get us through every field mission. Use your training, your intelligence, and find a way out of this. Help me, Carter."

"Of course I will." Sam reached over and held his hand.

After a long moment, his rough voice broke the silence, "Stay." Jack said it without begging, even though he wanted to.

"You sure?" There was a hint of nervousness in her voice.

"Just sleep here. It's late. You shouldn't have to drive all the way back in the middle of the night."

"OK," said Sam.

Jack wanted to reassure and protect the first steps they'd taken tonight. Despite the dark wants pulsing in his veins and the need for her in his heart, both of which demanded he drag Carter to his bed, Jack fought a little internal battle. In the end, the 'A' game argument decided against it again.

He touched her cheek briefly then stood up. "Couch, Carter. You can stay on the couch. For both our sakes."


	6. Tangled

Part 6: Tangled

Many weeks had passed, but it felt like a blink, now that time was so measured and precious. Sam had been at Jack's side through the surgery and the first chemotherapy session, where he had to sit in a chair at the infusion clinic for hours while toxic chemicals poured into his body through a portal in his chest.

For Jack, sitting in one place had always been the worst torture. Until he experienced the pain, nausea, cramps, diarrhea, and everything else that happened in the days following the first treatment. Now he understood real torture, chemo was hell.

O'Neill was now being treated at a cancer center in Las Vegas, Nevada, where one of the best regional oncologists was overseeing his therapy. All the while, Sam was right next to him. She requested transfer to Area 51 and had rented a house about halfway between the hospital and Nellis. Jack didn't comment on her choice, they each had their own bedroom.

In the days after each session, it wasn't that he was just sick and fatigued. It was that it was becoming an endless loop of hell. He was tired of feeling tired. He hated everything his life had become. He was a useless burden on Sam. He started to believe the only purpose he served in life was to make her and the others who cared about him worry.

Returning from a check-up appointment late one afternoon, they hadn't spoken the whole drive home until they pulled up in front of the house and Jack got out of the car. Sam hurried around and admonished him for attempting to get out without her help. It caused his stomach to churn worse but he didn't say anything.

She put her hand under his arm and Jack immediately jerked himself away from her. He didn't want assistance, like he was some frail old man. The short walk from the car to the front door was all it took. Jack's body had had enough of his stubborn insistence on doing everything himself. His mind might have one idea, but his body was of a distinctly different opinion. It gave out on him just inside the door.

"Whoa," Sam said, reaching out as Jack went down. "Jack-"

He waved her off, anger flashing in his eyes. In that instant, Sam knew the bottle had at long last broken, and the storm inside it was coming.

"Stop," He said it low, but with a tone that could frighten even the biggest, meanest Goa'uld. "Just stop and leave me be."

"Jack," Sam worked to keep her voice neutral. "If you'd only use the wheelchair, this wouldn't happen." Hoping reason would counteract whatever was lurking in his tone.

"I said no wheelchair." He growled it.

"OK." Sam said carefully.

"No wheelchair, no chemo, no more of the damn cancer." Jack's voice was turning harder and louder. "I can't, won't do this. This isn't getting better this is killing me. It's killing you."

"I won't let you give up." She warned.

Jack looked at her and yelled, "I hate this."

"I know."

Jack tried to get up, to get away from those gentle, loving, blue eyes. The ones that were so pretty, so young, so full of potential and right now, filled with concern. He hated that too.

O'Neill tried to get up and walk but collapsed again. He grunted some indescribable thing and in his rage at his own helplessness he grabbed the first thing in reach and flung it across the room.

Sam had never seen Jack cry, ever. She'd seen him choke up a little, but never cry. It was a shock to watch it now, even if it was understandable. Other people seeing Jack O'Neill lose it, use that tone of voice and throw things might be afraid of his violence. Sam knew it would never, under any circumstances, ever be directed at her. She slowly lowered herself down on the floor next to him.

"Why me? Why now?" Jack yelled, "Why do you want this?! Me like this- this weak, good for nothing-"

Angrily, he used the back of his hand to wipe away the tears, hating himself for showing her this, trying to pull away from her.

Sam fought him; she wouldn't allow him to put distance between them. Not now, when she knew Jack needed her despite the show he was putting on. She wrestled with him in a way that might have been comical under other circumstances, until finally he stilled and allowed her to hold him. She kissed his cheek then placed his head against her chest.

"Alive," she said.

After several minutes of silence, a less threatening tone of voice rumbled, "I'm old."

"So?"

"I'm just sayin'"

"That's the best argument you can come up with?" Sam asked. "I'm not exactly a spring chicken myself, you know. Men my age are either married with children and dogs, they're proudly gay, or are going though a mid-life crisis and are on the prowl for a floozy."

"There's that. You're no floozy."

"Exactly." Sam held him tighter. "And thank goodness you're not on the prowl for one."

Sam never imagined this would be the moment she'd admit it, sprawled on the floor, both of them in tears and hurting. "I want something more, with you. There are far worse things than death, like never knowing, never telling you how much you mean to me. Jack, you're the only one I want."

He knew this, but hearing her say it aloud helped. With it, Jack's bout of insecurities and self-recriminations retreated, along with the last ounce of his strength.

Sam whispered, "Please don't give up."

"For you, anything." He promised and meant it.

After a while resting his head in her lap. Jack finally felt a little strength return. Enough that he promised he could get into bed.

Sam helped Jack stand up and move down the hall into his room. She unbuttoned the Hawaiian shirt Jack was wearing– a gift from Teal'c– and got him down to his boxers without much meaningful help from the over-tired Jack. Other than the helpful comment, "This is exactly how I pictured this," said in typical dry sarcasm.

Just as she finished getting him settled, she turned to leave. Jack tugged her arm.

Sam stammered, "Jack- I-" There it was again, unsure, nervous Carter. Like she was some kind of maiden and he was a pillaging pirate.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Carter, but I can hardly keep my eyelids up, let alone other parts. Even if I wanted to."

He suddenly realized how that must have sounded. "No, not that. I mean, I don't have _that_ kind of problem, I swear…" Jack was rambling in a drowsy voice.

His blunder made Sam smile, "I know."

"I promise you, Carter. It's not you." Jack really was on a roll. "You have no idea how many times just looking at you would make me-"

"OK, OK. I get it." Sam cut him off, feeling the blush rising in her cheeks. But his words also made butterflies come alive in her belly, with anticipation and hunger.

His voice was growing groggier with exhaustion. "If I weren't so sick and… I swear, the kinds of things I'd be doing to you right now..."

"Jack!"

He lips curved slightly, knowing he was making her a little nervous. But good, she'd better get used to it.

Sam said thoughtfully, "Shame that the red lace underwear I'm wearing is going to have to wait."

"Evil, evil woman."

She giggled, and it was all he needed to hear to feel hope. Jack was positive science could never prove it, but he was pretty sure that Sam's laugh could heal anything.

Jack opened his arms and Sam got into bed next to him. As he drew her in close, she fit perfectly at his side.

"Just stay right here," Jack said.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Three days later, the worst of the symptoms, both physical and emotional, had ebbed. The guys came down for a visit that Jack suspected was some sort of USO troop moral mission Sam had coordinated for his benefit. Not that he was complaining, video games, cards, junk food, and a guy-only house for an evening weren't bad things.

"Sucker!!"

Daniel bristled at the implied insult. "I have real life experience." He countered Jack's comment.

Teal'c found this moment to be when he could no longer contain his opinion any longer. "I fail to understand what pushing buttons does to train a real warrior? It only allows the weak of heart to envision what battle is without understanding the true challenges and losses associated with it."

Jack hit reset on the gaming system. "That's not the point." But he popped in the Simpson's version of Crazy Taxi anyway.

Daniel redirected the conversation back to Jack, which was the purpose of them being here after all.

"So… how are things?" He asked Jack.

"Fine."

Daniel and Teal'c exchanged a meaningful glance. Teal'c added, "I believe Daniel Jackson's question was not entirely in regards to your health, O'Neill."

"Oh?"

"Throughout our journey to arrive here, he has been trying to determine the best method by which to ask about the nature of your relationship with Colonel Carter."

"Has he now?" Jack turned to Daniel, "And this is your business how?"

Daniel gave Jack a hard look. It was a reminder that Sam was like a sister. Any guy knew that if someone's been shacking up with your sister, you've got a right to know what his intensions are.

Jack spoke flatly. "Things are… you know… good."

After a long silence, Daniel squinted and blinked a few times. "Please, Jack, hold back the graphic details, it's really unnecessary."

Still no response from Jack, who seemed very interested in the buttonhole of his shirt. 

"Come on, you two are sharing a place…"

"Oh for cryin' out loud." Jack grouched. "What'da want me to say?"

Daniel shrugged. "Are you going to marry her? Make an honest woman out of Sam?" He offered.

"Oy." Jack stood up. "OK, first off, no need to make an honest woman out of someone who sleeps across the hall." Most of the time, anyway, but they didn't need to know that. "And second, that's the last thing she needs right now, me shoving a ring under her nose."

Daniel looked confused. "She sleeps across the hall? But I thought… Jack, if you'd just stop being so pigheaded and tell her how you feel then-"

"It's not me, you idiot. It's her! You can't push Sam, if you do, she runs off like a scared little rabbit. Trust me, I tried to push once and it didn't work out so well. And it's not just me, others that pushed the issue haven't exactly faired well either. Sam's MO is to run. So, I'm giving her all the time she needs."

Daniel said flatly, "Yeah, 'cuz you've always been known for your patience."

"I will be… this time." Jack finished, unconvincingly.

Teal'c finally offered his opinion on the matter. "Perhaps the best course of action, O'Neill, is to ask Samantha Carter why she displays such behavior?"

"Talking?!?" Jack threw up his hands. "T, buddy, who's side are you on?"

"He has a point, Jack." Daniel reached for the bag of chips Teal'c offered. Munching on one, he added, "You should try talking to her about all of this."

"Daniel, in the long list of things I would very much like to do with Carter, talking is at the bottom of it."

"Yeah. But, it might be the only way you're ever gonna get a chance at the stuff at the top of your list."

"And how do you know what's at the top?" Jack questioned.

Daniel tossed him a look, "Please."


	7. A little less conversation

Part 7: A Little Less Conversation

Sam argued with Jack about eating, and forced him to get sleep when he pushed too much. She was taking good care of him, and it was normal behavior of the "caregiver" according to the little pamphlet they gave him at the hospital.

The "caregiver" often has to feel like they are doing something supportive and helping in some way. As the one with cancer, he is supposed to be "patient" with the "caregiver." But in Jack's mind, the "caregiver" in this case was also sometimes being a complete and total mother hen, pain in the ass.

Sam refused to tell him about work. The only exception was when she would give him updates on how friends and colleagues were doing. Mostly things like Siler having a new girlfriend, to which Jack complained, "Why do women fall all over that guy? What do they _possibly_ see in him?" To Hammond's granddaughter winning the state-spelling contest, to Daniel looking forward to going to Atlantis. Broad things– no missions, no discoveries, no end-of-the-world stuff–which was probably for the best Jack assumed.

Instead of work, Cassie was often a topic of conversation these days. She had handled Janet's loss so well, that it was almost too good to be true. It seemed to be hitting her now, after the fact. Or at least that was Sam's theory for Cassie's recent erratic behavior. It was just one more heavy burden for Sam to have to handle right now, and Jack felt sorry for that.

Other than chemo, mother hen nagging, and Cassie, things were pretty good for him at the moment. He had Sam in his life… well, sort of. She was around, she made him meals, she shared a place to live. They'd kissed, they'd snuggled. But no sex.

Not that it was the only thing he wanted from Carter, but it was something. Jack wanted to be patient and wait as long as she needed to feel safe and ready, really he did. But he'd already waited too many damn years as it was.

He could be wrong– after all, more than once Sam had to help him up off the bathroom floor while he had god-awful stuff coming out of both ends due to the chemo. The experience might have ruined part of his overwhelming coolness factor for her. But Jack was pretty sure that in spite of it, she was still attracted to him. She wanted it, but damn it that woman was good and not allowing herself to cross the intimacy line. Sometimes, Samantha Carter could be more stubborn than he was.

Jack knew there was something else, and probably it really didn't have to do with him. Though, if Sam were having second thoughts about being stuck with a sick old man, Jack wouldn't blame her. For some reason, he just doubted that was the case. He knew Sam for a lot of years and had seen her in every conceivable situation. Jack had developed a healthy intuition about her after all this time. So, he was pretty sure that he wasn't the issue. She was.

He had spent the last week trying to decide how to get it out of her. Not that Jack wanted to do all the talking stuff. God, he hated that and he was crap at it. But, he figured Daniel had been right, the only way to get to the much more enjoyable non-talking activities was to get the talking part out of the way.

Jack took a deep breath and set down his fork.

"Not good?" Sam asked as she looked up at him. She wasn't a gourmet cook, but she could handle a filet and mashed potatoes. Or so she thought.

"It's good." Jack met her eyes, searching. "Just not hungry I guess."

"You feeling OK? I could call-"

"Carter," he cut her off. "I'm fine. I feel fine. Everything's fine."

"OK." She took another bite of her potatoes but her eyes kept glancing at him suspiciously.

Oh, cut the crap, Jack told himself. She can tell something's up anyway. "You know what? There is something wrong."

Sam sent down her fork, bracing herself for the next round of bad news. Maybe Cassie called earlier with a fresh set of tears. Maybe the doctors have new information, something bad enough that Jack was afraid to tell her.

Jack announced with flourish, "Sex."

Sam blinked. "What?"

"We're not having sex and that's a problem for me."

"Oh."

Jack said flatly, "I sense it's not a problem for you."

"I, well, I…" She was stammering.

"Maybe you're not physically attracted to me? I don't do it for ya?"

Sam assumed this meant his doubts were creeping back in. He thought he wasn't worthy and he expected Sam to figure that out and leave him. Especially now that he was so vulnerable.

Sam went from shocked to compassionate in a split second. "You know how I feel and I'm going to be at your side through all of this. I've told you a thous-"

"Is it the cancer then? You are afraid I'm too sick? What about my good days, Sam? There are times I have more than enough energy and strength, you know that. Or maybe you see me differently now?"

"No, of course not." Sam's brow was wrinkled in concern.

"You've figured out suddenly that your gay?"

"Jack," she said, a little annoyed.

"Good. I didn't think so, but I wanted to rule all that out, just to be thorough. You wanna know what I think the real problem is?" He pinned her with his eyes. "I think you're scared."

"Of what?!?"

"I don't know. I'm not that scarey."

She wasn't sure what could be said in response to that. Her nerves were rattled and she wished her heart wasn't beating so fast and hard that it was echoing in her ears.

"You're right," she said, maybe a little too suddenly, and brightly, "let's go for it."

"Carter," he groaned. Geeze, she was treating this like he was that pillaging pirate again, about to ruin her and than make her walk the plank. "Going for it, as you so romantically put it, is not an answer to my question."

Sam was working up a little bit of a temper now. "I don't have an answer."

"Yes, you do. You just won't tell me. You won't let me in. By me pushing this, I know I'm taking a chance that you might run. But I'm hoping you won't."

Jack got up and took his plate into the kitchen. He cleared it, put it in the dishwasher, and all the while Sam sat at the table staring into space. Finally, she took a deep breath and released it slowly. That's how Jack knew Sam had made a decision, she'd tell him.

"Over here," Jack waved her over to the sofa. "Do you need something?"

"Wine might be good." She said softly.

He arranged that, getting a bottle of white from the refrigerator, opening it and pouring two glasses. He was between rounds of chemo for a little bit and could indulge in one glass, probably, without much of a problem. Hopefully.

When he sat back down, Sam took a sip. She seemed defeated and small to Jack. He longed to hold her but he sensed that wasn't the best thing for the moment.

"You're right, I am scared." She admitted.

"Of me?"

"No, not you. I'm not even sure… it's not rational."

After a moment, she began again, "I've been dreaming of my mother." Sam took another sip before starting to talk in a soft timbre, not in her "sciency voice" that Jack was so accustomed too. It was the quiet, gentle side of Sam, the one that he'd seen much more of since he'd gotten sick.

"When I was little, my mom called me 'Samantha' and my father insisted on 'Sam.' He always wished they had another boy. And I don't know, maybe because my dad clearly preferred Mark, I was always trying to please him. I started to go by 'Sam' all the time, with friends, the rest of the family, everyone. I just became Sam. This was all before…"

She took a breath and changed direction. "I never did anything to try to make my mom proud. In fact, I was always running off trying to be one of the boys and I never really spent much time with her." Sam took gulp of wine, trying to clear the thickness in her throat. "God, Jack, I've never told anyone about all of this, and you of all people hate this kind of thing."

"When it's you, it's not _so_ bad. Go on, just ignore the snoring." He amended, "Kidding, kidding." But he had gotten a small smile out of her, which was the whole point.

After a moment, Sam said suddenly, "She died in a car accident. Did you know that?"

Jack nodded. "I was your CO, I saw your file, Sam."

"Oh, right." Why did it seem that the SGC was a million years ago, and a million light years away?

"I'm sure that was tough." Jack prompted her.

She looked up at him. "They say, not as hard as a parent losing a child-"

"Oh, no you don't. This isn't about me. This is about you. Stop trying to change the subject."

She nodded. He reached over and squeezed her hand, trying to encourage her. Just get it out, he wanted to say, you'll feel better afterwords. Jack knew better than anyone, the year of therapy after that first mission to Abydos had done wonders for him. And he of all people, he hated talking more than anyone.

But in the Air Force she couldn't see a psychiatrist without it becoming part of her record, and therefore, possibly affecting her future. Jack realized how much she'd had to deal with, all her life and still to this day, never really letting it out and letting go properly. He made a decision in that moment to always be her sounding board. He may not be a big fan of the whole talking thing, but she deserved someone who would listen to her and help her get through.

"It changed me, Jack, it's part of who I am and it shaped me. I can't help it, I'm so afraid of losing someone the way we all lost her. The guilt never goes away. Dad couldn't talk, sleep, eat. He poured himself into work and I never got to see him. Now he's gone too. And I'm- I'm exactly like him, Jack. He always said that."

"You're not. For one, you've got a better body than he ever did."

Sam amended, "OK, maybe not exactly the same, but you get my point."

"Sure. You're afraid of getting hurt like he got hurt, like you all did. So if you never go too far, always hold something back, you can't get hurt completely."

Sam nodded, reaching for her wineglass.

"Ah, news flash, Carter." He looked around the house they shared and between the two of them on the couch together.

She met his eyes over the rim of her glass. After a hearty sip, she set it back down and looked at him again. "Yeah, I know. Not logical. I said so in the beginning."

Sam wished tears weren't threatening. It made her so girly. She spoke with a voice that was broken.

"It's just that this– your diagnosis and us having to go through this, it is my worst nightmare come true. I can't lose you, Jack, I'm not strong enough. I've lost too many people already." The tears came then. "And it's not like in the field, no amount of physics or math or military training or anything I can do will change this. You are the one who means everything to me and I have no control-"

Jack reached for her, gathering her to his chest. "We're fighting and you're helping, just like always."

"Yes, it's just..." She couldn't find the words to finish.

"Scarey," Jack completed her statement. "I get it. But what I don't understand is what in the heck all this has to do with holding out sex?"

Sam shook her head, though hampered by the fact that she was being held tight to his chest. "I don't know, subconscious way of preventing me from getting any closer than I already am? Maybe it won't hurt as much in the end? I don't know."

"Well, cut it out."

"Jack," she raised her head to look at him, curiously, with slight curve of a smile on her lips. "Do you only want me for sex?"

"No," he fought the automatic urge to be flippant. Serious honesty was needed in this moment. "It's just the only part of you that I don't have. I'm a selfish man, I want all of you."

She pulled back, and looked away, his eyes sometimes could be too much. She picked up her wine, and tipped it back, finishing off the last drops in the glass. Jack held the bottle ready to refill it for her.

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Trying to get me drunk?" He didn't say yes, but he didn't deny it. Sam changed her mind and set down the glass before continuing.

"A while ago, I dreamt of my mom. It was like any other dream, like a memory of her. But then she told me that there wasn't much time left. She was warning me. That's why I thought something was wrong with me, but it was you."

Sam looked up at Jack, waiting for him to laugh at her. It was unreal that a woman of hard science such as herself would believe in dreams and visions. But they'd seen enough to know that anything was possible.

"Sometimes, I want to be Samantha again, the side of me that was shaped by my mom, the part of me that's a woman, the part that wants nothing more than to give into love. But I'm my father's daughter."

Jack offered. "I think you're a little of both of them." Sam nodded slightly, not sure if she agreed, but a feeling of release did start to grow.

"Samantha." Jack put a finger under her chin to tilt her face up, and then he placed a kiss gently. "I'll try, but I kinda have an unnatural attachment to 'Carter.' It means a lot of deep, intense things to me, that I'm sure some psych could make a fortune trying to work out."

A smile flirted across her lips, "It's OK." Because frankly this wasn't as important in the long run as she was making it out to be at the moment. She was just feeling sentimental and needy. " 'Cater' has come to mean a lot to me too. You have a way of saying it."

Jack had that look in his eye, the one she'd seen plenty of times before. It had always made her nervous. "I'll do whatever will make you happy… Samantha."

There was one last lingering doubt and she was reluctant to say it aloud. "What if after all this time, all the waiting… what if it doesn't live up to your… you know, expectations."

He gave her a look. "In this relationship, the only one allowed to worry about not being good enough is me."

Sam shook her head. "You're not allowed either." Then she whispered, "Come're," opening her arms to him.

Jack dove at her, his enthusiasm was so great. Sam wrapped herself around him and kissed him, tenderly at first, but they became urgent and heated very quickly.

Horizontal, on the couch, with Jack solidly rounding second base and headed toward third ("Nice!") was the exact moment Daniel decided to call.

"No," Jack grumbled as the phone rang. "You are _so_ not getting that."

As Sam reached for it anyway, he complained, "That is such a cliché."

Sam said, "Hello."

Daniel thought she sounded a little funny, breathless and… something else. "Sam, it's Daniel. Glad I caught you."

"Hi, Daniel."

Jack growled. "Tell him the next time I see him, I'm gonna Zat him."

Daniel heard the comment through the phone. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," she said, squirming out of Jack's reach and sitting up. "It's Jack, grumpy complaints are normal, remember?"

"So, he's feeling better then?"

"Oh… well on his way to much better, I'd say."

After she finished the conversation, she followed Jack out onto the patio. She put her arms around him from behind and lay her cheek against his back. "Want to come inside now and finish what we started?"

"Nope," he didn't sound angry. "I've changed my mind. Now, I'm holding out on you."

"Oh, come on," Sam groaned. "What could I do? Daniel and Teal'c have been worried about you."

Jack turned in her arms and hugged her. "Yea, I know. But I'm still going to give you a taste of your own medicine."

"For how long?" She asked between laughing at the ridiculous look on his face and gasping at the way his hands felt on her skin. He was teasing her– in more ways than one.

"Don't know, I haven't decided. But probably it should be more special than on a couch like two horny teenagers anyway... We'll figure it out. We'll figure everything out. OK?"

"OK." Sam leaned up and kissed his cheek. "You let me know when it's your turn to talk."

"No! Not talking!" His playful outburst ended with a soulful, wounded, "Always with the talking."

"We'll start with your feelings of inadequacy," she said, clearly enjoying this. "Particularly misguided in my opinion given the fact that you've chosen a tomboy science geek."

"Hey," Jack's tone changed, "that's _my_ science geek you're talkin' about and she's no tomboy." Sam's eyes twinkled at his defense of her.

Jack added in a sly whisper against her ear. "Just because she can shoot a p90 doesn't mean she can't fill out a uniform in all the right places." Then he placed a series of little kisses down her neck.

Sam sighed with pleasure humming through her body, feeling lighter than she had in years. Thanks to everything that was Jack– crazy, grumpy, pushy, and perfect. Perfect for her, for as long as the cosmos allowed, she was lucky to have him.


	8. List song

Part 8: List song

Sam Carter never had much of a social life over the years, but it wasn't non-existent either. After all, she was beautiful and interesting. But her dating life never reached it's full potential in part because she'd always been cautious and in control. With every man Sam had ever been with, she'd always held a part of herself back.

When Sam walked though the front door that night, she had no idea that she'd never do that again. It would be the first night in a long line of them that she'd give herself completely, in every way.

Maybe Sam not working directly under Jack's command anymore had helped; there was no longer the underlying fear of discovery or the guilt of breaking rules. Perhaps the cancer diagnosis had shaken them both. Even two people who face potentially fatal situations in their work sometimes need to be reminded that life is too short. And likely, Sam was finally coming to the end of her long journey in dealing with the loss of both of her parents, learning to trust love, and not allow fears, doubts, and self-preservation instincts to prevail. Or maybe it was none of those things. Maybe tonight was nothing more than simply, finally, the right moment.

Sam entered the house and dropped her purse and keys near the door. Only then did it register that something was different. Music played low on the stereo.

… _Cold Cape Cod clams, 'gainst their wish, do it  
__Even lazy jellyfish do it  
__Let's do it, let's fall in love_…

"You know how much I _love_ a good cliché," Jack said.

Sam responded automatically, "You never..."

Only then did she glance around, taking in the scene. The table was set, the lights were low and there were candles lit everywhere. Jack was dressed, not in typical t-shirt and baggy pants, but in kakis and a pressed shirt. His hair was combed, he had shaved, even was wearing cologne.

He shrugged. "Yeah, but they're also a cliché for a reason."

She asked, "It impresses the ladies?" with a smile forming.

"Can't think of anything better."

…. _The most refined ladybugs do it  
__When a gentleman calls  
__Moths in your rugs they do it  
__What's the use of mothballs_…

"Dance with me," he hardly even spoke, it was more of a rumble in his chest, where his heart was pounding.

Sam stepped into his arms and they held tight, swaying slightly, but mostly just reveling in the closeness. She had danced with a lot of men, but none felt like the fit the way Jack O'Neill did.

Jack said into her ear, "I ordered dinner in from that Italian place you like."

"I didn't think that they delivered." She commented.

"If you pay 'em enough they do."

"Well, aren't you being thoughtful."

"Maybe." He stepped away from her and went over to the kitchen. He pulled out a chair at the little table and offered her a hand, "Samantha."

_Hoo boy_. Her insides slid down to dangerous indulgent parts south. Yep, she was double done for, and completely a goner.

Sam had never given herself over completely. But that night, with Jack, she surrendered and gave him everything, her body and her heart. She opened herself, accepting love in a way she'd never done before.

They touched and explored, learning each other's bodies. Throughout the night they came together many times, catching catnaps in between love sessions. Sam would wake once again to Jack's hot kisses on her skin and another round would begin.

In the morning, a broad smile spread from ear to ear before Sam even opened her eyes. Jack had a tight grip around her and was snoring softly, something he never did when they slept in the field.

Sam felt blissful. It was good being loved by Jack O'Neill, and it was even better showing him just how much she loved him in return. She started a trail of kisses down his chest, hoping to return the favor of all the interesting ways he'd woken her up throughout the night.

They spent the weekend almost entirely in bed. Sam felt positivity wanton. Who did that? Certainly not her. Jack was gentle with her and sometimes almost reverent, but he was also hot, demanding, and insatiable.

It had never been like this with any man she'd ever been with. Either Jack was especially talented, or he'd finally managed to break down all her protective walls, or her love for him was that great. Maybe it was a combination of all three. But whatever the reason, Sam swore all he had to do now was caress her once and she was wet, swollen, and on the edge of orgasm.

Sam no longer was the woman she once was, able to keep her emotions in check around him, fight back her desire and keep it holed up, prevent her body from responding. No, she was now a changed woman forever. Unfortunately, eventually this unending haze of obsession with each other's bodies had to end and real life had to begin again.

"Jack, I have to go to work today," she said, rolling away from him. But being pulled back just as fast.

"No you don't."

"Jack, I'm serious." Sam managed to break from his embrace on the second try, planted one last kiss on his forehead, and headed for a shower. She locked the bathroom door however, as images of yesterday afternoon played in her mind. She didn't need Jack interrupting, pushing her back up against the tile, and pleasantly making her late.

As she was getting dressed, he pouted. "Com'on, Carter. You don't need to work. We'll live off my pension, order food in, and never leave this house for the rest of our lives."

She tossed him a look. "Besides my work being important, you've got your next treatment session in two days. You need to get some sleep to build up your strength for it." At her words, Jack sighed.

"Hey," Sam said gently as she came over to the side of the bed, placing a hand on his cheek. She instantly regretted the reminder of his illness invading the perfect world they'd been living in. "I'll be home early tonight, I promise."

"And naked within 3 seconds of coming in through the door?"

"Yeah sure ya betcha." She imitated.

He smiled and ran his hand along her arm, stroking and reassuring. "Good."

"Besides, I thought this afternoon was your little play date with Cameron and some F-302's?"

"Are you making fun of us?"

She held up her finger and thumb centimeters apart to demonstrate, "Just a little bit."

Sam scrunched up her nose, in that cute way she did when trying not to laugh. Jack loved it, just like he loved everything about her. He shouldn't be so selfish to want her at his side every second of her life. But Jack couldn't help himself. He could look at her forever, and it would never be enough.

"Carter," he called out as she turned to leave. In just one word, Jack said a thousand things and he didn't need to say anymore, because she knew.

Sam came back, kissed him on the lips one more time, lingering for just a few seconds. Then she said, "I know. Me too."

…_Maybe even you and I might do it  
__Let's do it, let's fall in love._


	9. Begin again

Part 9: Begin again

Cassandra Fraiser had always believed that she was lucky. SG-1 had found her, rescued her, had taken care of her, and become her sanctuary. Sam would always be there for her, no questions asked, and Janet Fraiser was the best thing that had ever came along in life. But lately, Cassie felt that her luck had run out.

Like the saying, it had come in threes. First, her mom died suddenly, unexpectedly, and it rocked Cassie to the core. It somehow was harder this time, now that she wasn't a kid and puppy dogs and ice cream no longer solved problems. She was in shock for weeks, not even sure how to begin to understand Janet's death let alone move on. Not long after, Jack was diagnosed with cancer, the man who was her protector as a child and always seemed like an immortal superhero. Now, Cassie's boyfriend of two years had dumped her. Well, honestly, she'd pushed him away and not treated him very well because of all the crap she was going through. But still, could there be any worse timing?

At least Sam wasn't going off-world these days. In one particularly awful crying episode, Cassie had begged Sam to never go though the Stargate again. So that the same thing that happened to her mom wouldn't ever happen to Sam.

Sam refused to make that promise, but she was working at Area 51 for the time being. Cassie was grateful it was one less thing she had to worry about right now, even if she did feel guilty for doing it to Sam.

Cassie's last exam was earlier in the day, and was the other thing going for her. She'd made a split second decision to go back to school this semester, despite the fact that she was still grieving, and Sam had tried to convince her otherwise. Who could really be surprised given the habits of the two women that had raised her? Pouring herself into the work had helped Cassie, for a while. But lately it was also taking its toll, case in point, her now _ex_-boyfriend.

She hadn't planned to come here, at least not right away. Cassie intended to find a summer job, pack and store her stuff from the dorm, maybe even visit some old high school friends in Colorado Springs. But instead, here she was, at Sam's front door.

When Cassie was growing up, understandably, she looked up to Sam and idolized her. Sam was like an older, wiser, cooler big sister. Cassie wanted to be just like her when she grew up.

Unfortunately, because of Sam's frequent missions, she wasn't around as much as either of them wished. But sometimes, Sam would come over on a Saturday night and they'd all have a sleep-over. Mom called it "girls night in" and they'd order food and watch movies until really, really late. Which now that she thought about it, Cassie figured was maybe 11:00, but as it kid it was way past her bedtime.

The whole night was such a treat. Especially when her mom and Sam would occasionally slip into talking about something grown-up. Like Mom teasing Sam, "You should really find a date on a Saturday night for once."

After bedtime, Cassie would sneak into the guest room where Sam stayed. She'd crawl in, and Sam would sleep with her arm around Cassie all night. Cassie wondered, even to this day, if Mom ever figured that part out.

Now, Cassie let herself into the house with the spare key given to her on the last visit. She glanced over to the door of Jack's room. It was closed and all was quiet. Cassie had driven straight through, arriving in the middle of the night, so it wasn't too surprising that they were asleep.

She knew she probably should just crash on the couch. But her thoughts of the past were so vivid tonight, it was as if she were reliving it all again. She needed something, like being in that safe place with the things that always brought comfort, like Sam's arm.

Cassie dropped her bag in the entry and tip-toed over to Sam's bedroom door. Opening it revealed a big lump under the covers, snoring. Cassie smiled. Sam was cool, but she was also a geek sometimes. She crossed the room and hesitated, the lump was awfully big. Did Sam have extra pillows under there with her?

Jack's field training would likely never go away completely. Including any sound, or movement in the night, causing him to immediately awaken.

He sat up in bed, trying to focus in the dark bedroom. "What?"

"Uncle Jack?" Cassie asked, confused, and therefore falling into the old habit of calling him what she used to as a child.

Sam woke to indiscriminate commotion. She reached over and switched on the lamp. "Jack, what's wrong?"

Cassie blinked in the sudden light. Then it all registered: Sam was naked, Jack was in boxers, and they were in the same bed.

"OH, God!" Cassie raised her arm up, trying to block the view. "You guys could've told me, gross!"

Cassie dashed from the room, knowing exactly what her friend Lilly felt like when she caught her parents having sex. Lilly, who at the time was 12 years old, swore to her best friend Cassie that she would never in her whole life have sex, ever. It was too disgusting.

"Go," Sam ordered to Jack.

"What?!?" He bristled.

"You're further along in the clothes department than I am. Go out there and… help."

Jack looked down at his boxers and shook his head. But he didn't really feel like arguing with Sam. So, he pulled on jeans and walked out into the family room.

Jack asked casually, "So, Cass… ah, what's up?" while scratching lazily at his stomach.

Cassie glared at him in a way that reminded him of Janet, it was scarey. "Mom always worried that this would happen."

"What?" No, wait, that wasn't the right question– "Why?"

Cassie shrugged, "Something about a weird hold you had over Sam. And rules and stuff." She plopped down on the couch.

"Really? What kind of hold?" Jack asked, interested.

Cassie gave him another look, this one much more Cater-like.

"Cassie," Sam said as she came out of the bedroom, now dressed. She gave Cassie a big hug. "What are you doing here? We didn't expect you for another week or so."

"Obviously," Cassie said flatly.

Sam took a deep breath and counted to 10. It was a trick Janet had taught her was essential when dealing with Cassie in a mood.

"Jack, do you think you could give us a little time alone, please?"

Gladly, thought Jack. But he said, "Sure," in what he believed was an indifferent tone. Until both women gave him a look. Jack grumbled and muttered under his breath as he retreated.

"So," Sam started, not sure where she was going to go with this. "Your Uncle Jack and I are-"

"Yeah, I saw." Cassie cut her off, wrongly assuming what Sam was about to say. "You could have warned me so I wouldn't have to find out in quite that way."

"Cassandra, I am sorry. You're right, I should have told you. It's just that it's all so new between Jack and I, and… I'm sorry."

"It's not new."

"What?" Sam asked confused.

"You and Jack," Cassie clarified. "It's not new. I guess now that Jack was let go because of medical stuff, you guys can finally be together, huh?"

"Something like that." Sam felt like Cassandra's version made it sound a little too Lifetime network movie. In reality, it had been much more complicated than that. But a simple explanation would work for now. "You're OK with it?"

"Yeah." Cassie sighed and nodded. "I mean, so long as I don't have to see…" She pointed back toward the bedroom, "that."

Sam smiled, understanding. But felt the need to remind, "You're the one that snuck into my room in the middle of the night, Cass."

"Oh, right." Cassie decided to side step that fact. "Just because there's never been a man in it before," she said dryly, "shouldn't make me assume you're a nun after all."

Cassie grinned at Sam's look.

Then Cassie said, "So, you and Uncle Jack huh?" Then her brow winkled in thought. "Look, maybe I shouldn't have come. You guys probably want to be alone."

"No, you're always welcome here and you know that." Sam said firmly.

Her and Cassie were still tying to figure out their place with each other now that Janet was gone and Cassie was a young woman, not a girl who needed a full-time mom. However, Sam knew better than anyone that no matter how grown up you get, there are times you need a mom. Cassie had been going through one of those times of late.

Sam figured they were up already, might as well talk. "Tell me, how were finals?"

"Good. Calc was rough but I think I did OK."

"And Jeff? How's he doing? His finals go OK too?"

Cassie took a deep breath. "I don't really know. We kinda broke up."

"Oh, Cassie."

"I'm OK."

"Of course you are." Sam said, sounding exactly like Daniel. It made Cassie glance up at her, with a strange expression.

"It's funny how we all pick up on each other's phrases and stuff."

Sam looked at her confused, wondering where Cassie's mind had leaped too. At the look of confusion, Cassie clarified. "Daniel, Jack, you, me, Mom, even Teal'c… It's like a family, isn't it?"

"I've always thought of it that way."

"It's nice."

"Yes, it is." Sam opened her arms and Cassie accepted the hug. "I'm sorry about Jeff. But I promise there will be other guys and someday some guy will come along and he will be the perfect man for you. Not perfect, but perfect for you."

"Like Jack is for you?"

"Yes," Sam said dreamily.

Cassie smirked, pulled back from Sam's embrace, and crossed her arms at her chest. "All right, dish."

"Huh?"

"Dish," Cassie said slowly, like Sam was hard of hearing or just plain an idiot. "You're like some love-sick… Whatever… Is he treating you well? Are you in love? Is it just sex or are you guys going to get married? Or what?"

The look on Sam's face was priceless. Cassie grinned. Perhaps it was fun being around Sam when she was little. But it was maybe even more fun now, being an adult herself and being able to have adult conversations with Sam.

Sam cleared her throat. "It's kind of late, Cassandra, maybe we can finish this conversation in the morning."

"Chicken."

Sam shot her a glare, then smiled a little, and tossed a throw pillow at her. "Bed. Now."

"Goodnight," Cassie said, smiling back. She suddenly realized that Sam had managed to make her forget all her troubles. Though, not exactly through a method of distraction that Cassie expected. Mom was gone and things sucked in her life right now, but she still had people who loved her and for that, Cassie was grateful.

"And Sam," she added softly, "thanks."


	10. Plan to not make plans

Part 10: Plan to Not Make Plans

"Jack," Sam called out, entering the house after work one evening.

Jack heard her. After all the years of Sam calling him, "Sir," it was still a little strange to hear his name on her lips, even after everything that had changed of late. Strange, but definitely intoxicating. Sam said it with this little sigh at the end that sent a quickened pulse through him.

"Out here, Carter. Com're and join me." He said and then leaned back in the chair, catching the last of the fading sunlight on his face. The house had a patio that was surrounded by trees, blocking it from the neighbors.

The desert was not his favorite. Fortunately, the owners of the house he and Sam were renting had installed an irrigation system. It miraculously allowed for green to grow and it reminded Jack of the Springs or even better, Minnesota. So, not surprisingly, the backyard had become his favorite spot in the late afternoons.

Sam smiled. Nowadays he mostly called her "Sam" especially when other people were around. When he was thinking about it, he'd deliberately call her "Samantha" though usually only when the two of them were alone together. But he still– and likely always would– call her "Carter" from time to time. Especially when Jack wasn't thinking at all and was riding on emotion, like when he was angry with her or in the height of lovemaking, he'd subconsciously slip into old habits and call her "Carter."

Not that Sam minded it in the least. It had become a term of endearment. While other men might say "Honey" or "Sweetheart," Jack had his "Carter." It was interesting to Sam that she could get a glimpse of his mood and thoughts simply by what name he used. Tonight was no exception. Apparently tonight she was "Carter."

She wandered through the house finally finding him lounging on a chaise on the patio. "Yes?" she asked.

"I love you."

Of course she knew this already, she had known for a long time. But he'd never said it before now. It was typical Jack to just one day announce it without any preamble or preparation. Her heart flip-flopped despite herself.

At the look on her face, Jack rolled his eyes. "Oh for cryin' out loud, you're gonna make a big deal outta this. Aren't you?"

A grin spread across her face as she nodded. Sam slowly lowered herself, to share his seat. "I love you too, Jack O'Neill."

"You're such a girl sometimes, Carter." But he had a modest smile on his face as well. "I have for a long time, I just wanted to say it. You know, just in case…"

Sam put a finger on his lips to stop that line of thought. Then she leaned in and kissed him lightly.

"That's not all." He said after she pulled back. "I want you to know I decided today that I'm never gonna ask you to marry me."

Sam froze, shocked and silent. Jack let it sink in for a moment, before he continued. "But, I'll say yes if you ever decide to ask me."

A strange mixture of emotions crossed her face.

He asked, "Kids?" rather off-handed.

"Jack, what are you doing? Why this… now?"

"I decided I'm not going to put up with your deliberate 'not talking about the future' thing because you're afraid I won't have one."

"I'm not-"

"Ah!"Jack cut her off. "I'm not gonna die from this cancer thing. I'm gonna beat it and then we're gonna have a whole future ahead of us. So, I wanna know if you think you want to have kids some day."

Sam lowered her head, unable to look at him as she admitted, "No I don't."

It wasn't what he was expecting. "Really?"

"I thought I did, once." Sam confessed. "But then I realized something. Even though I'm not going through the gate these days, some day I might again. If I never do I'm still part of the Air Force. Either way I have a dangerous job and I refuse to put a child into a situation where they may end up growing up like I did, without a mom."

"Makes sense."

"Besides," Sam said. "We have Cassie. She's more than enough for us to handle."

"Oy," Jack said as an agreement.

Sam met his eyes. "Are you disappointed?"

"Nah."

In fact, he was relieved, though he'd never tell her that. If she wanted a baby, he would have gone along with it for her sake. But there was still stuff about Charlie and emotional baggage he didn't want to have to deal with so it was much, much easier this way. Also, there was one other reason, maybe just as important.

Jack squinted a little and said, "Two AM feedings isso _not _what I was looking forward to in retirement. Plus, I want no one taking your attention away from me."

"Selfish man."

"Damn right." He squeezed her hand. "Oh, and for the record I'd like a princess cut set in platinum. Nothing too big or it'll look like its only purpose is to show off to the girls."

Sam blinked. "I thought you said you weren't going to ask me?"

"I'm not. You're gonna buy a ring and you're gonna ask me. When you're ready. Someday. Whatever."

"And what if I never do? Could you live with that?"

Jack sensed this was important, even though she was playing it off. "So long as you're having sex with me and no other man for the rest of your life… I'm good."

Leave it to Jack to tell her exactly what she needed to hear, but in a juvenile, roundabout way. Sam fought a smile. "See, I knew you only wanted me just for the sex."

"Samantha," Jack looked intently into those baby blues, to make sure she knew this part was honestly from his heart. "I love you. Everything about you. I don't need a piece of paper or a ring or anything else, I just need you to be with me and be happy."

"I am happy." Sam squeezed his hand back.

The look of contentment on her face, and the sparkle of love in her eyes… Well, apparently he'd handled this conversation right. He'd been worried for days about messing this up. The unexpected upside was that the look on her face also said to Jack that he was gonna get some fantastic lovin' tonight.

"Sweet."

Out of the blue, Sam said, "Remember that time on P2X-577?"

Jack searched his memory, why did that seem to be so familiar and yet so– "Was that where you caught me…?"

"Yes." She grinned.

"Then I remember it well."

"You weren't the only one with fantasies back then."

Jack's eyes went wide. Sometimes, Sam Carter was so very, very hot. "Oh?"

"After that, sometimes I'd be laying in bed at night and I'd wonder if you were thinking about me right then and touching yourself, and I'd touch myself and think it was almost like… like we were together."

It was sad, the way she described it.

Then Sam said in her bedroom voice, "Now is so much better." She drew her leg over him and settled in his lap. "I used to wish I had done things differently in that moment."

"Yeah?" He asked, unable to form more words. The trees surrounding the patio meant that no one would be able to see them. But still, his Sam, this adventurous? She was unbuttoning his fly.

Sam admitted, "I wanted to go into that room sooner and push your hand aside." She was wearing a skit, which was now hiked up around her waist. "Replace it with what you really wanted. I knew what you were dreaming about."

In one quick and sudden movement, she took all of him in, and it felt like heaven.

Jack threw his head back and moaned. God, she was incredible. Better than any fantasy he could have ever imagined.

"It is _so_ much better now," he agreed.


	11. Bennu

a/n: I warned you there would be angst. But I believe in happy endings so hang in there. I repeat, do not panic…

Part 11: Bennu

Sam was amazed by the calmness that came over her. There was no panic, or fear, only details to be handled. When Jack collapsed, she didn't call 911 and she didn't take him to a random sterile emergency room.

Teal'c had been there, in the old house in the Springs that Sam was packing up to be sold. One minute Jack and Teal'c were talking and the next, Jack had collapsed. They got O'Neill into the car and drove to the SGC. On the way, Sam called Cassie on her cell phone then General Landry.

Young strapping Marines greeted them with a gurney at the entrance to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. As they wheeled O'Neill through the halls and elevators, Jack finally opened his eyes, "Carter?"

"I'm right here," she said, squeezing his hand while she hurried along beside him.

Only a precious few people were told that the General was on base or what was happening– he was slipping away.

In a private room, those precious few gathered. Those who had become more than teammates, more than coworkers, and in some sense even more than friends. They were family. They came not only because of their love for Jack but to show their support for Sam.

Cassie was the first to arrive. She hugged Jack and didn't quite know what to say to him. There were no words that could ever be enough to express everything he was to her. Teal'c stood watch at the door, and lowered his head while Cassie cried despite Jack's instance not to.

Dr. Lamb came in to check on him, record some readings from the monitors, and adjust a few things. Generals Hammond and Landry arrived. They said a few words and left when Daniel came a short time later.

Daniel walked into the room and paused to take in the scene. Hammond and Landry were on their way out. Both gentlemen's typical air of confidence and strength, something that Daniel associated strongly with many of the miliary types that he knew, was absent. It was as if the usual polished armor had dulled in spots. They both nodded to acknowledge Daniel's presence, and then exited the room silently.

Daniel spotted Teal'c seated in the far corner, Cassie gathered up at his side like a beloved niece. Sam was perched on the bed sitting near Jack's hip and tubes and cords connected Jack to machines. Daniel knew one of those tubes was keeping Jack's pain manageable, about all that they really could do for him at this point.

Sam held Jack's hand and bent over to gently kiss his forehead. When she looked up and saw Daniel, she moved as if she were going to give the two men some privacy.

"No, Sam, stay." Daniel insisted and she did.

"Daniel." Jack's eyes fluttered open. "Doesn't seem that long ago we were doing this the other way around."

"I could still help you ascend."

"We've been through this. Hangin' out with beings that even you couldn't get along with… not exactly my idea of a good time. I'll take my chances with whatever else is out there."

"Jack, I want to say–"

"I know." Jack cut his friend off, in an exhausted voice. "You don't have to say it. I know."

Sam's eyes were filling with tears again. She was trying to be so strong. She didn't want to show Jack how much this was hurting her and would only be worse soon. Jack caught her eye and held her gaze even though he continued to speak to Daniel.

Jack said, "Daniel, promise me–"

"Anything."

"Take care of Sam."

Sam didn't know if she wanted to admonish him or kiss him. But before she could say a word, Jack repeated his plea. "Promise me."

Daniel's eyes volleyed back and forth between the two people who were like siblings to him, as close of a family as he'd ever known. Neither deserved what was about to happen and Daniel ached for them both. "Of course I promise. I always have and always will."

"Sam," Jack said.

"Yeah?"

"Take care of Daniel."

Sam smiled despite the tears, finally understanding. "I will."

Daniel gave Sam a quick hug. The feelings between them did not need to be said aloud. Much like with Teal'c, the years spent together said more than any words ever could. In moments of crisis when worlds were about to be destroyed, whether figuratively or literally, the fact that they would always be there for each other was understood. It was the nature of their bond, unquestioning, unwavering love for one another.

Daniel moved over to Teal'c and Cassie, motioning for them to follow. He wanted to give Jack and Sam some time alone and by the look of Cassie, she could use something to eat.

Sam tried to think of things she needed to say to Jack. But she wasn't sure there was anything left unsaid. She was grateful that they'd finally managed to break down those years of barriers and be closer than she ever thought possible.

Sam knew this day would have been a thousand times more painful if she'd hadn't had these last months to say all the things in her heart. It all would've been so much worse if she hadn't had the memories of him she could now cherish for her lifetime.

Sam thought about the choices she'd made, choices that had affected both of them in countless ways. She wished they had gotten married, instead of putting it off as something to talk about and plan for "someday." Sam even briefly reconsidered the idea that she didn't want a child. Would it be easier to go through what she was about to go through if she had some piece of Jack still? A child with Jack's eyes. But then that was selfish on her part, to want a baby simply to make her own pain manageable, and not think about how difficult it would be on the child growing up without a father. Yet, reason and logic were not winning today, her heart longed for things that couldn't be erased by good sense.

It still wasn't fair, or right, and Sam would not accept this was how it was supposed to end. They only just found each other. Being together was their reward for all those years of loneliness and confusion. They should have been able to grow old together. Grief began rolling through her in unrelenting waves. Suddenly, Sam didn't hold back.

"I can't do this, Jack. I can't lose you. I can't take it," with a fresh set of tears springing on her.

"You can. You can handle anything…" He was struggling with weakness growing. "…you have the strength within."

"No," she said.

"It's right there in your heart, where I'll always be."

Hours later, Jack slipped into a coma. Sam stood vigil by his side. She whispered things into his ear, held his hand, touched his face.

Cameron Mitchell entered the infirmary and his brain could hardly believe his eyes. He simply couldn't believe that this was the same Jack O'Neill that had taken him flying not that long ago. Jack was going through treatments back then, but he certainly seemed to be doing OK.

Now, the man Cameron saw lying in the bed before him hardly resembled the crazy old coot that Cam had grown to respect and admire. This man was pale and weak, a shadow of what he used to be.

Cam didn't want to intrude and he knew that Vala, who stood at his side for the moment, felt the same. They hadn't been as much of a part of O'Neill's life as Daniel, Teal'c and the others. But Cam wanted both Jack and Sam to know his support was there, for whatever it was worth.

Cam and Vala made the way over. Vala took Sam into a hug without saying a word. The two women had recently begun to get to know each other. A friendship between them only just starting, and it was as unique as they were. But it did seem to sooth Sam's rattled thoughts and emotions to have even her new supporter here. Vala had been through some dark things in her past and had survived. Sam had no doubt that Vala would be there as a knowing, understanding source of strength.

Cam was unsure of his place. The General was in a coma but Cam couldn't help the desire to show at least in some small way the admiration that he had for General O'Neill. And most importantly, the gratitude he owed this man for so many things. Not the least of which, saving Cam's life at a dark time.

Cam reached out and squeezed General O'Neill's shoulder briefly and let go. Then as Vala finished with her display, Cam wrapped his arms around Sam as well.

"I'm here." He whispered. "Whatever you need. You know that, right?"

Sam nodded, trying to stay steady. She didn't have the words to express it, but she hoped somehow both Cam and Vala knew she appreciated their presence. They were among many, Sergeant Siler, Walter Harriman, and Dr. Lee included, who were maybe a little unexpected in their appearance but their genuine emotion, admiration toward General O'Neill, and compassion for Sam was touching.

Cam said, "We'll be just outside if you need anything." He then looped his arm around Vala and guided her out of the room.

Mitchell sat on a bench in the hall. Vala plopped down next to him and heaved a sigh. She stared down at her shoes.

"I should try the hand device." Vala announced.

"Vala," Cam warned. "We've been through all the options over and over. Sam understands. She knows that just like her, you have the same limited ability to control it as she does."

"I know, but maybe I can at least try."

"Host to a _former_ symbiote can at best use it to heal a few scratches and bruises. This is way beyond your ability and trying might only serve to hurt yourself in some way. It's not worth the risk."

"I feel useless." Vala said in frustration. "I want to try something, anything that might help."

"You know," he continued more thoughtfully, "my grandma was a real religious type person. Went to church every Sunday."

"Really?" Vala asked, interested.

Cam nodded. "I remember one time I asked my dad if he shared my grandma's faith. He told me that praying never hurt anyone. But no one could prove that it didn't help."

Vala looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't know how to pray." She amended, "Well, other than prostrating to false Gods…" She trailed off.

"Not what I meant," Cam said. "Just close your eyes and ask for what you want… whatever you wish you could do when you're feeling useless."

Vala looked at him earnestly for a moment. Then she turned her head up. "Hello, whoever you are… up there…" She started then stopped, waiting for something to happen.

"Go on." Mitchell encouraged.

"I'm Vala," she said. "I'm speaking to you on behalf of our friends Sam and General O'Neill. You see, he's not doing so well at the moment. Well, he's dying actually. And I want to lodge a complaint because I don't think it's very fair. I don't know if he's a good General or not. Or really much else about him, but I do know that he and Sam are very much in love."

Vala stood up as she spoke, gaining a bit of confidence in her voice as she went on. "We're suddenly in the battle of our lives with the Ori and this planet is full of tsunamis and wars and terrible things called strip malls. I mean, in the midst of all of that, people need some sense of good and fairness in the world. Seeing two people in love is like hope. It makes you want to go on. It's inspiration. How can you, whoever you are, think that taking a man away from the woman he loves is a good idea? Especially at a time like this. What sort of silly sense does that make? I mean, who do you think you are anyway?"

"Vala," Cameron cut her off. "Usually not a good idea to insult the big guy upstairs."

"Oh." Vala stopped pacing. She looked at Cam for a moment, then one last time turned her head toward the ceiling. "I'm just saying, what are you waiting for? Help them already!" She shouted.

That instant, Cam and Vala saw the flash of a bright light from inside the room were Jack lay.

Jack was drifting. Somewhere, vaguely in the distance he could hear Sam crying and speaking to him. Her voice was growing increasingly faint. Jack started to see a white light.

When the light faded, Sam turned around, taking in her new unexpected surroundings. She found himself on board Thor's ship. Jack was crumpled on the floor next to her.

"Quickly," Thor said.

"He's dying." Sam stated plainly, stunned at the sudden turn of events.

"Yes, I know. I got here as quickly as I could." Thor pointed to the chamber. "You must get O'Neill in it right away. It may already be too late."

Sam struggled to lift Jack and arrange him inside the chamber. If he hadn't lost so much weight throughout the illness, she probably never would have managed it. The glass lid slid shut over Jack's body. It looked too much like a coffin for Sam to handle. Another round of tears began the well-traveled path down her cheeks.

Thor was working at his console. "I'm afraid Loki's cloning process several years ago had an unfortunate side effect of mutating several genes in O'Neill's DNA. I did not detect the single base pair changes when I scanned him after that event to check his health. When you sent word after first learning of O'Neill's cancer, I suspected the worst. However, in order to discover how to reverse it, I needed to locate Loki first."

Sam stood stoic as the explanation was given. None of it mattered now. She could hardly register any emotion.

Thor moved crystals on his console for several minutes. Finally, he said, "Perhaps it is not too late after all."

Sam spun around. "Perhaps? What do you mean perhaps? Can you save him or not?" She was never this rude to Thor, but she was desperate.

"It will take some time, but I believe I may be able to save him."

Sam sat down on a low flat surface nearby, before her legs gave out from underneath her. Though she sobbed painfully, hope was rising in her heart again like a phoenix.


	12. Hanging a lantern on it

Part 12: Hanging a lantern on it

It had been close, too close. Sam was forced to go through her worst fear of losing Jack and being helpless to stop it. But somehow miracles do happen and she'd been granted a second chance. Jack O'Neill was given back to her.

For Jack it was pretty simple, dying wasn't good but he didn't die. Feel blessed, thank Thor, be happy, and move on. But he knew nothing was that simple for Sam, she had that big brain of hers and it tended to take longer to work through stuff. So, Jack did whatever he had to do to help her though it. Actually, it took less time than he expected.

Samantha Carter was clingy. That was the best word Jack could find to describe it. She'd follow him around the house. Any time he sat down, she'd snuggle up at his side.

The sex was pretty intense– which he certainly wasn't complaining about. Until one night in the middle of it, she began to weep. Jack held her until the river of tears ebbed, then he began to move inside her again, only this time slowly, gently, tenderly. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, which he never did. But Jack figured she deserved it at least once.

Also, Sam made him go into work with her. That part just about nearly killed him all over again. To be cooped up in her lab for 10 hours– because Jack didn't have clearance to go anywhere else at Area 51– and be forced to entertain himself. A yo-yo and a comic book only go so far.

Sam would be working intently on something and suddenly a split-second of panic would cross her features. She'd look up, searching, until she met his eyes. Then she'd smile. One of those Sam Carter specials, a sunshine smile meant for him and him alone and that made it all worth it. It was worth any amount of torture, including endless hours of technobabble.

It finally passed, as Jack knew it would. As much as Sam loved him, and as much as she'd gone through her own personal hell, she was always going to be the same fiercely independent, capable woman she always had been. Sam began to get engrossed in her work and forget that anything else existed in the universe, including Jack. She stopped following him around and sometimes shoved him away when he was getting really annoying. Yep, she was back.

So, Jack was healed, time passed and now life went on much as before for the rest of the world. But for Samantha Cater and Jack O'Neill, it was as if Earth had titled on its axis. They were together, and they had a future ahead of them. How could anything compare?

Jack decided to make retirement permanent. Sam tried to argue with him about it saying that he would get bored and in an attempt to amuse himself, he'd drive Sam nuts.

She argued but Jack wouldn't listen to her. Now that she was no longer under his command she could be one pushy women, speaking her mind and trying to get exactly what she wanted from him. In bed, that wasn't a bad thing. But otherwise…

As for the retiring issue, Jack was _so far_ holding firm. Until Woolsey showed up at the door to Jack's house one morning.

Jack let him in and offered him a cup of coffee, which Woolsey declined. Woolsey had just gotten out, "…so that's why we're offering you this chance to..." When Sam came out of the bedroom. She was in her robe and her hair was distinctly "bed head."

Woolsey looked back and forth between them, until it all sunk in. "Right. Probably not going to take the job then. I understand, Jack." Woosley let himself out.

Sam turned and raised her eyebrows, waiting for Jack's explanation.

"He offered me a job." Jack shrugged and retreated into the kitchen to get more coffee. It was going to be a long day, and large amounts of caffeine would be crucial.

"What kind of job, exactly?" She asked, following him.

"Sam, we agreed that I would retire. Occasionally doing the laundry and a little fishing, but mostly being your cabana boy."

Sam ignored it. She wasn't going to let him wiggle out of this, change the subject, or charm her into distraction.

Two weeks later, Jack was off to his new job in Washington. With of course, negotiated three-day weekends off in order to spend time in Colorado Springs.

Sam convinced him to bargain and make demands. If they wanted Jack O'Neill back, they would have to do it on his terms. Jack was actually quite shocked at how much they were willing to bend over backwards.

Sam wasn't sure how she felt about being back on SG-1. The threats were real, and had Daniel more concerned than he ever was about their eventual defeat of the Goa'uld.

Going through the gate again was at the same time a thrill and also a burden. It meant that Cassie would worry more, and likely Jack would too. But being there for Daniel, Teal'c, and even Mitchell now, watching their six and helping to find the means to defeat this threat to not only Earth but the entire galaxy, it felt right. At least for the time being anyway.

Sam currently sat in a surveillance truck with Agent Barrett, letting her mind wander through all these recent changes in her life and contemplating bringing up the marriage discussion again. Maybe when Jack came home from Washington this weekend.

Sam wasn't really listening to Barrett, and then suddenly he had her undivided attention. Was Barrett really hitting on her? Sam almost wanted to laugh if the whole thing didn't feel so awkward. Of course her and Jack's relationship wasn't something they were flaunting and certainly with his return to active duty, that would remain so for the time being. It was part of the deal made that allowed for both Jack's return and for their relationship to continue. Yet, she had to let this poor guy off the hook, gently.

"So, you're single then?" Barrett asked hopefully.

"Not exactly." Sam tried to keep a neutral expression and quickly turned back to the task at hand.

Two days later, lying in the dark at Jack's side she recounted the moment. Jack repeated, "Not exactly?"

"Yeah, well, I was taken a little by surprise."

"And yet," Jack reminded, "not single." Sam almost groaned. He was very much enjoying this. "My genius, logical Carter, making no sense at all. Who'da thunk it was even possible?"

"Can we not talk about this, please?"

"I'm all for _not_ talking."

She agreed, "Thank you."

"But I'm just sayin'" Jack rolled over her and ran a hand down her torso. "Maybe all this hot sex is killing your brain cells?"

Sam smiled. "I don't think so."

"No?" He leaned in and placed a kiss on her jawline. "Good 'cuz I wouldn't want to be responsible for ruining a national treasure."

"Oh, you've ruined me all right." Sam shifted her hands up around his neck. Her fingers raked through the short hair on the back of his head. "You've ruined me for any other man. So much that I don't even notice anymore that they're remotely interested. It's the furthest thing from my mind. I was shocked."

"Can we stop talking about him when I'm trying to seduce you, please?"

Sam leaned into him, kissing him softly. She swallowed a moan as Jack moved above her, his weight settling between her legs.

Maybe Jack was right. Maybe it was killing her brain because Sam couldn't think of anything but him as they made love. Perhaps that was all right.

Tomorrow was another mission and there would always be another new threat out there, and then another after that. For right now, right here, they had only each other and they would face tomorrow together. That was a gift.

Fin


End file.
